


Forever Again

by seductivembrace



Series: Forever!verse [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 63,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to <i>Forever</i>. Picks up where the first story left off. Buffy gets a prophetic message from Lorne and vows to save her family and friends from this newest threat - all while struggling to deal with the changes within herself. Completed January 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Hey, sweetcakes, we need to talk... Hey, sweetcakes, we need to talk... Hey, sweetcakes, we need to talk... ”_  
  
Like a mantra, it echoed over and over in Buffy’s brain. The green-skinned demon – Lorne – had pulled her aside as, all around her, her friends had laughed and sang, just generally having a good time. She’d kissed Spike’s cheek and gave him a smile as she’d slipped away from him to listen to what the demon had to say.  
  
Now alone in the conference room, she couldn’t prevent the trembling running its course through her body. She needed Spike – he’d take away the sudden chill pervading her being. It wasn’t the cold of the empty room that bothered her; rather, it was the ominous warnings of the demon that had left her alone to deal with the aftermath of his prophetic words. She thought, yet again, that she needed Spike, needed the comfort of her lover, her mate, her Sire. He’d make it all better… at least for a little while.  
  
Until the words became reality and hell came to Los Angeles.  
  
One minute she was alone with her thoughts as she stared out the protective windows at the setting sun, the desolation of what was to come nearly overwhelming her, then cool hands eased around her waist, pulling her back into the comforting embrace of her lover. Spike.  
  
She relaxed into him, allowing him to take some of the burden from her slight shoulders.  
  
“What is it, luv?” he whispered in her ear.  
  
Buffy just shook her head, unwilling to impart the details of her conversation. Lorne had warned her, to say anything now might affect the outcome – and dear God, it was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she snuggled closer to him, silently begging for him to hold her close.  
  
He complied, turning her in his arms so that her head rested against his chest; her arms wrapped around his back holding him close even as his settled around her shoulders.  
  
“’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured, soothing Buffy as best he could.  
  
The conference door banged open announcing Dawn’s presence.  
  
“ _There_ you are! Come on…you gotta see this. Angel’s about to sing!”  
  
“He lose a bet, Niblet?” Spike asked as he lifted his chin from the top of Buffy’s head.  
  
“Something like that. Come on! You guys can make with the smoochies anytime.”  
  
She affected a pout and Spike chuckled in response. He glanced down at the Slayer, fingers pressed beneath her chin to meet his concerned gaze.  
  
“Okay now?”  
  
Buffy nodded, giving him a wobbly smile. A quick kiss to his lips, then she pasted on a brighter smile for her sister before stepping back and away, heading towards the door.  
  
Spike watched her for a moment before following, noticed the tension radiating from her body. She’d have to do a better job than that if she was going to fool the others into thinking that everything was fine.  
  
He kept an eye on her throughout the remainder of the night. No one seemed to notice her preoccupation – not even her watcher, which surprised Spike – except for Angel, but then Angel also had a slight advantage over the others in that he was also tied, however loosely, to Buffy by blood. He caught Angel watching her, a frown marring his normally broody disposition, before he turned questioning eyes to him. A slight shake of Spike’s head indicated to the other that they’d discuss it some other time, that Buffy had yet to share what it was that had spoiled her good cheer.  
  
Angel nodded back.  
  
It would wait.  
  
For now.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy, for her part, tried to push it away. To not let the warning affect their holiday with Angel and the rest of her family and friends. Besides, there was nothing she could do at the moment. She had a little time yet. Not much. But still. Nothing that couldn’t wait until they’d returned to Rome.  
  
Right now, she wanted to enjoy the company of her friends and family. She’d worry about protecting them once she got back.  
  
Her eyes darted to where the tall, lanky Texan girl sat next to her former watcher, Wes. He’d changed since she’d seen him last. Gone was the innocence of youth. His eyes hid secrets… and pain. But, the girl – Fred – seemed to be bringing a little light back into his eyes. Buffy would have to start with her first. She refused to lose any more family members before their time. The LA crew wasn’t hers, per se, but Angel thought of them as his, so through him, they now belonged to her as well.  
  
And she vowed that they’d all live to a ripe old age, with children and grandchildren running about their feet.  
  
It was the least she could do.  
  
Lorne was wrong. She would save them.  
  
She was the Chosen One.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
They stayed in Los Angeles through the New Year. Then, one by one, the group broke apart, returning to their homes. Giles was the first to go, citing his need to return to the Council. Willow followed next. Then, Xander and his fiancé, Alaine, left.  
  
Soon it was time for Buffy, Spike, Dawn, and the other young slayers to leave. The goodbyes were heartfelt with promises to get together soon. Buffy waved to Angel’s friends, but couldn’t resist a final warning. Grabbing Fred’s hand, she pulled the other girl off to the side.  
  
Her voice low so others wouldn’t overhear, Buffy whispered, “Stay away from Knox.”  
  
“Huh?” Puzzlement marred the girl’s features.  
  
“Knox, the guy in your department. Don’t trust him… trust the watcher. Just… don’t be alone with Knox. Okay?”  
  
“Uh… okay. And, Wesley?”  
  
“Oh yeah… he’s got it bad. Put him out of his misery already.”  
  
Fred blushed but didn’t say anything. Buffy turned and walked away. It was time to go. She glanced back once, indicating to Fred with a tilt of her head towards the watcher, and mouthing, “Don’t forget.”  
  
Fred nodded.  
  
It was a start.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“What was that about, pet?” he asked, arching a brow.  
  
“Nothing. Girl talk. We better get going,” she told him, changing the subject. He snorted at that answer, knowing instinctively that she was lying, but let himself be led away. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it now, but that wasn’t to say they wouldn’t be having a full-blown discussion once they were gone.  
  
All too soon they were at the airport, standing around in Wolfram  & Hart’s hangar while the jet was prepared for takeoff. Dawn and the other girls were already inside, leaving just Buffy, Spike, and Angel alone.  
  
“It was good seeing you… both of you,” Angel told them. “You’re welcome to come anytime. Just call me and I’ll have the jet fueled and on its way before you can say Los Angeles.”  
  
“Thanks, Angel,” Buffy said. “It was good… seeing you again.” She gave him a quick hug, brushed her lips across his cheek, then turned and climbed the stairs to take her seat – sensing the two had things to say to each other and would rather do so without her present.  
  
“She tell you?” Angel began once he knew she was out of earshot.  
  
“No. You see that bit with Fred?”  
  
“Yeah. Any clue?”  
  
“No. You?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Spike frowned. Angel brooded. Neither liked it.  
  
“Sire... ”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“Let me know what she tells you. Why do I feel like the disaster we averted in Rome wasn’t the end?”  
  
“Because it never is.”  
  
In a rare show of affection, Angel lifted his hand and cupped his childe’s jaw. “William. It will be okay. Trust your instincts. Trust Buffy. And if you need me for anything, I’m only a phone call away.”  
  
Spike looked into the Angel’s eyes and nearly wept at the emotion shimmering there. He nodded, unable to speak. They embraced briefly, then Angel let go and stepped back so Spike could board the jet to take him home. His hand lifted in farewell before he turned and walked away.  
  
He hated goodbyes.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Well, you’re not Hoover scraps so that means you two didn’t come to blows. Everything alright between you two now?”  
  
“Ha bloody ha, Slayer,” Spike replied. He gripped her hand and pulled her to her feet, taking her place before settling her onto his lap. Nuzzling her neck he murmured, “How did you know?”  
  
“We’re family.”  
  
“Still doesn’t mean I like him.”  
  
“I know, baby.” His grip tightened as he mock-punished her for sassing him. Truth was, he loved her interference. She’d managed to subtly bridge the gap between him and Angel, and for that, Spike was secretly grateful.  
  
Two hours into their flight, Buffy started to get hungry. In all the confusion, teary goodbyes and warnings, she’d forgotten to feed before leaving Angel’s place. She pushed away from Spike’s chest and moved to stand so she could head to the refrigerator to see about getting some blood.  
  
Opening the fridge, she eyed the human packets with a bit of frustration – since her episode back in Rome when her vampire demon had completely overshadowed the slayer’s, she’d stayed away from the temptation of human blood, settling for either Spike’s or whatever animals he managed to get from the butcher. With a frown, she shut the door and plopped back down in Spike’s lap.  
  
“What’sa matter, Slayer?”  
  
“Only human blood stocked,” she mumbled.  
  
“Well, c’mere then.”  
  
“No,” she told him, shaking her head as she glanced at the others. “I can wait. I’ll just take a nap.”  
  
Buffy napped fitfully, the growing hunger pangs keeping her from resting deeply, so that when they finally landed in Rome, she was overtired and ravenous. When she and Spike were finally alone in the car, he took one hand off the wheel and thrust his arm at her with a sharp, “Take a little to take the edge off.”  
  
Grateful, she took his hand – greedily sinking her fangs into his wrist, sighing in pleasure as Sire’s blood slid down her throat. Just two quick pulls and then she stopped, licking the marks closed.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“No problem, pet. Although, I don’t know why you didn’t just drink the stuff on the plane.”  
  
“I told you… I don’t want… don’t want to lose control like that again.”  
  
“It’s okay, luv. I won’t let you hurt anyone. Promise.”  
  
“I know. It’s just… I don’t want to take the chance. If something were to happen to them… and that something was me… I just… I’d never forgive myself.”  
  
They pulled to a stop in front of their building. He shut off the engine and turned to her.  
  
“Nothing’s gonna happen, luv. Alright?”  
  
He glanced in the rearview mirror as two sets of headlights pulled in behind him. Dawn and Angelina had just pulled up.  
  
“Come on, the others are here. Let’s grab our stuff and get some sleep.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy was so tired she did nothing more than purr contentedly when Spike pulled her close as they eased beneath the covers. She ignored the hunger gnawing at her stomach – she’d get Dawn to make a run first thing in the morning for some fresh blood from the butcher’s. Closing her eyes, she attempted to rest. Spike rubbed his hand up and down her arm to help lull her to sleep, until he too, finally gave in to his exhaustion and jetlag.  
  
Spike woke before Buffy did, sending Dawn off with some money to restock the fridge while he made a quick call to the watcher to let him know they’d arrived home safely. He heard Dawn return about a half hour later and left the office to heat himself a mug. Dawn – bless her heart – already had a cup in the microwave and it dinged just as he walked into the kitchen. She put the remaining supply on the top shelf of the refrigerator, then grabbed pen and paper and made an extensive grocery list. Telling Spike she’d be back later that afternoon, she snagged purse and car keys and left to do some shopping.  
  
Hearing the slayers stir and make their way to the third floor, Spike quickly finished his mug and rinsed it out in the sink – one too many complaints from his Bit about the stains caused him to make doubly sure it was completely cleaned out. He’d made it to the top of the stairs when their voices rang out.  
  
“We know you’re there!”  
  
Their singsong voices brought a smile to his lips. They were learning fast, his little slayers.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy awoke with an intense hunger stealing through her body. Not since she’d been turned had she felt such a deep longing to feed, to gorge herself to slake the pain the hunger had produced. She stilled, her senses stretched outward as she searched for a meal.  
  
Slayers. Ten of them. On the floor above her. Her mate was there. Maybe holding breakfast for her? She licked her lips in anticipation and surprised herself when she nicked her tongue on one of her fangs. She must be really hungry to awaken with ridges and fangs prominent.  
  
No matter. After the blood of a few slayers in her, she’d have no trouble maintaining her human disguise.  
  
She slipped from bed, intent on her meal – pausing briefly to pull on shirt and pants to cover her nakedness.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike knew something was wrong the second she reached the top of the stairs. With a harsh shout, he drew the slayers behind him in a protective gesture. Then he waited.  
  
The door opened, and he caught his breath as she leaned against the frame. Buffy as a human rocked his socks. But Buffy as a true vampire did things to him that called to his own demon. Lust surged through him at the sight of her. He shook himself and concentrated as she sashayed into the room.  
  
“Hello, lover. Save me some breakfast?”  
  
“Buffy,” he warned, growling. “No. They’re not for eating, now fight it.”  
  
“I’m hungry,” she whined prettily. “Please, Sire?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Her bottom lip affected a pout.  
  
“I said no. Now, let’s go downstairs and get you something from the fridge.”  
  
Even as he said it, he braced himself for her attack. Bloodlust was swimming in her eyes and it would take nothing short of a brawl before he’d be able to haul her out of the room and away from temptation. He was deeply grateful his girls stood unmoving behind him, allowing him to handle the situation.  
  
She moved in a blur, and it was only because Spike was prepared for her that he was able to wrap his arms around her waist as she attempted to fly past him. Denied her meal, she turned on him, fangs and claws digging into him until he was forced to subdue her… and her demon.  
  
Gripping Buffy securely, he ordered the others to leave and had them shut the door on their way out. Finally alone with her, and certain of the others’ safety, he threw Buffy off him and against the far wall. The impact barely fazed her – the need for blood was overwhelming for his childe and she wouldn’t stop until her hunger had been satisfied.  
  
She launched herself at him, too far gone to realize she was attacking her mate and sire. Spike toyed with her a bit to wear her out some, he really didn’t want to have to drain her near dry like the last time so the demon would be forced to retreat. He could cheerfully live the next thousand centuries without having a repeat of that night, thank you very much.  
  
He watched as she got more and more angry, and steadily more and more tired as she put all her power into trying to land a punch. Her anger was having a direct influence on her fighting; she was sloppy and uncoordinated, and if it had been anyone else, she would have been taken out long before now. Spike figured she got her wisdom in fighting from her slayer’s demon. Her vampiric demon needed to learn a little control. And patience.  
  
Lack of blood and the exertion from the one-sided battle finally caused her to fall to her knees, too weary to continue. He waited a moment to see if she was trying to lull him into complacency, but her heavy breathing – completely unneeded – indicated that she was slowly gaining control, even if she was still hungry.  
  
“Buffy?” he questioned softly, crouching down in front of her.  
  
Her head was bowed as she gulped in deep breaths. He called her name again and watched warily as she lifted her head to gaze into his amber-colored eyes.  
  
“Spike?”  
  
“Yeah, pet?”  
  
“I’m hungry.”  
  
“I know you are, baby. C’mere.”  
  
She went willingly into his outstretched arms, lying back on the ground so she could stretch out on top of him. Staring down at his exposed neck, she licked her lips, then yelped when she cut her tongue again. Her hands came up to touch her face, confused as to why she’d vamped.  
  
Spike stilled beneath her as she realized what had happened. Ridges and fangs slid away as she gazed at him with luminous hazel eyes.  
  
“I did it again, didn’t I?”  
  
Beneath her, Spike just nodded.  
  
“Oh God!”  
  
She moved to scramble off him, but he was too fast for her.  
  
“Hey! Buffy…it’s okay. Shhhh….” he soothed and pulled her down to him. She cried then, feeling as if she’d somehow failed him.  
  
“Sorry… so sorry…” she mumbled over and over again through her tears.  
  
“’s okay, luv.”  
  
After a while, she finally stopped and Spike urged her to look at him.  
  
“It wasn’t you, Buffy. You were overtired and hungry and your vampire demon momentarily overpowered the slayer in you to quench the hunger. But you beat it, baby.”  
  
She shook her head at him.  
  
“Yes…”  
  
Spike urged her to lay her head back down on his shoulder. She needed to feed – even if the thought of it right now sickened her – and the temptation of his neck would be too great for her to resist. He waited for her to strike, and she completely surprised him when she asked.  
  
“Drink, Childe,” he told her, tilting his head to allow her easier access. His eyes closed in blissful contentment when he felt her fangs finally pierce his skin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Forever began Post AtS _Destiny_ , although I manipulated that episode in my little Spuffy mind to where Spike never pulled that crap with Harmony. He recorporealized and then later left. Then _Forever_ began and ended. Now, with _Forever Again_ , I’m using my creative license and am manipulating the rest of the season of AtS. Basically, the series was put on hold while my story played out and the timeline is picking up with this story during _Harm’s Way_. I’ll be manipulating the rest of the S.5 episodes to suit my story, although chronologically, they’ll play out as normal. Now, if I haven’t confused you too much, here’s chapter two…

The sire’s blood that flooded her mouth and slid down her throat was by far the best thing she’d ever tasted. Buffy couldn’t get enough of it and drove her fangs deeper into Spike’s neck as she took the sweet elixir into her mouth and moaning in delight at the tangy flavor. She felt the power of it slake her thirst and cause her body to vibrate with the potency of his blood.  
  
She growled, grinding her body closer as she lay on top of Spike and continued to take long pulls from his neck.  
  
Spike was starting to feel weak from blood loss as Buffy continued to feed from him. The soothing motion of his hands down her back stilled and he began to growl a warning for her to stop. Again she didn’t listen to him, and he used what remained of his strength to pry her fangs out of his neck.  
  
Her eyes opened and she took in the angry visage of her sire and realized she’d done it again.  
  
She had to get away, and now. She didn’t trust herself around anyone at present.  
  
Jumping off Spike’s body, she tore out of the training room – shame at what she’d almost done nearly overwhelming her. She ignored the sound of her name being shouted by Spike, wanting only to get away, as far away from everyone as she could.  
  
Her feet flew down the stairs – her motions a mere blur for anyone that happened to see her. Not that there was, however. She was sure the young slayers had heeded Spike’s warning and were probably hiding from her right now. Tears fell from her eyes as she raced out of the building, the sun having recently set and granting her an easy escape, no clear destination in mind.  
  
_‘Get away. Get far away,’_ her mind chanted.  
  
And she did, her feet continuing to eat up the ground beneath her, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the others.  
  
She ignored the pull of her mate urging her to return to him, to let him take care of her. Severing the mental connection to him he exerted through the claim, she raced on, unmindful of the tears that continued to fall.  
  
Eventually she stopped, her ears attuned to the night sounds all around her. She sniffed the air, her enhanced senses picking up nothing or no one around her. Once relatively secure of her safety, her legs buckled and she sank to the damp grass, sobs wracking her slender frame.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike pulled himself to a sitting position after Buffy raced from the room. Weakened from the loss of blood, he could do nothing more than shout her name, his hand raised as if to halt her flight.  
  
When she didn’t stop, his hand dropped to his side, defeated. He could feel her anguish and guilt through their claim and he used it to get her to come back. Telling her that he’d take care of her, that they’d work through this together. Then it was gone, the connection they shared was severed, like a candle suddenly snuffed by a gust of wind. And that scared him more than her sudden reversion to the true vampire demon that shared her body with the slayer’s demon.  
  
Panicked, he jumped to his feet, using the last of his strength to rush downstairs to the study. He needed to talk to somebody, let them know that the Slayer had had another episode; he needed to know what to do.  
  
He started with her watcher, not quite ready to involve Angel just yet. Besides, it had been Rupert that had been the one to find that prophecy relating to the joint demons inhabiting Buffy’s body, so he’d be the likely one to help. Spike paced back and forth behind the desk as he waited for Giles to answer his phone. There was no answer to the watcher’s private office line, so he tried him at home. When that produced similar results, he slammed the phone back in the cradle; a growl erupting from his throat, the hopelessness of the situation beginning to overcome him. With no answer from either number, Spike was left with no choice but to call Angel.  
  
While they’d been in LA, Angel had seen to it that Spike, Buffy, and Giles had the numbers to his private office line and his cellular phone, as well as his pager number. With the recent unresolved changes to Buffy, Angel wanted the others to be able to reach him at any time – day or night.  
  
“Angel,” he barked into the phone, instantly worried since less than a handful of people had the direct number to his office.  
  
“Sire,” Spike began. “It’s Buffy. She’s had another episode.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Halfway across the world, Angel leaned back in his plush office chair as Spike relayed the events that led up to Buffy losing control of her vampire demon. His eyes closed and he could practically feel the anguish in Spike’s voice as it came across the line. He should have kept them there with him in Los Angeles, was just about to voice that when Spike’s next words came to him.  
  
“She severed the connection, Sire.”  
  
“ _What_? How? She’s too young to be able to pull off something like that!” Angel exclaimed, sitting up abruptly in his seat.  
  
“I don’t know. One minute, I’m feelin’ her anguish, an’ regret, an’ guilt… the next… nothin’. Absolutely nothin’!”  
  
Spike’s heartache tore at Angel. He’d like to think that the two had mended a few bridges over the holidays spent together, and he didn’t like to see a member of his family hurting. That Buffy was involved just seemed to up the ante.  
  
“I can leave now and be there in fifteen hours,” Angel stated.  
  
“I…”  
  
“I should have made you both stay, at least until Buffy had a better handle on this. I don’t know what I was thinking…” he continued, talking over Spike as if he’d not said anything.  
  
“Send the plane, Angel. We’ll come to you. I don’t trust her around Niblet and the others. I’ll talk to Giles and make him come to Rome. Between the two of us, we should be able to keep an eye on the Slayer… see that she doesn’t… that she doesn’t hurt anyone else.”  
  
“Hold on a second.”  
  
Angel placed Spike on hold, and hit the intercom button to Harmony’s desk. After the recent events that had transpired at the Wolfram  & Hart law offices, the blonde was doing her best to ingratiate herself back into his good graces. Although, he did agree that her situation had seemed dire, how she went about resolving her problem needed some work. He did _not_ like to have his fellow friends and employees bonked over their head.  
  
“Harmony!” he barked.  
  
“Yes, boss!”  
  
“Call the pilot and have him gas up the jet and on his way to Rome inside the hour. He’s picking up Buffy and Spike.”  
  
“Uh… okay, boss. Right away.”  
  
Angel glanced out his office windows to see her disconnect the intercom and pick up the phone. Satisfied his order was being carried out, he once more spoke with Spike.  
  
“Plane’s on its way. I’ll have the pilot call you when he lands at da Vinci.”  
  
“Thanks, Sire. I’ve gotta go. Need to get some blood and go look for Buffy. Gotta find her before the sun comes up.”  
  
“I’ll be waiting for you. Call me from the plane when you’re in the air.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike replaced the handset then left the study. His first stop was the kitchen where he raided the refrigerator, pulling several bags from the rack to heat and consume. One he drank cold, his fangs elongating and puncturing the bag of “O” negative blood. His nose twitched at the cool liquid, but his demon gulped the restorative fluid just the same. By the time he finished the cool bag, the timer in the microwave had gone off and he was gulping down its contents as a third bag replaced the second. When he’d consumed five of the bags, he deposited the empties in the trashcan and rinsed out his “Kiss the Vampire” mug, a gag gift from the watcher.  
  
He’d never tell anyone, but secretly he’d been touched that Giles had bought him something that had vague references to the day that had started Spike on his current path of loving the Slayer. Not that he remembered fondly sitting in the man’s bathtub, chained to the pipes as Buffy had held the “Kiss the Librarian” mug while he’d sucked blood through a straw. It had been later, having had a taste of the Slayer – even if it had been under false pretenses – that Spike began to fantasize about her, then obsess, then later… love.  
  
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Spike went looking for Dawn and the others. He needed to tell them that both he and Buffy would be going back to Los Angeles for a while and that Giles would be temporarily relocating to Rome to keep an eye on the girls. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation with little sis.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike breathed a sigh of relief that Dawn had taken their impending departure in stride. He’d had all sorts of excuses lined up as to why she couldn’t come along, but she’d surprised him. Exhibited maturity beyond her years when she did nothing more than hug him and wish him luck, exerting his promise to call often. She was growing up into a fine young woman, his ‘Bit.  
  
He left her to her studying and went back downstairs to once more try to reach the watcher. Success was had the second time around. Giles picked up the phone in his office, a terse “hello” issuing from his mouth.  
  
“Rupert, it’s me.”  
  
Spike quickly relayed the events to the watcher then rung off, his need to look for his childe, his mate, nearly overwhelming him. He had to make sure that she was alright. He couldn’t understand how she’d been able to block him, severing their connection as if she were a master vampire in her own right. It scared him as much as it awed him that she seemed to have that kind of power.  
  
With Rupert’s promise to be on the next flight out of London ringing in his ears, Spike tore out of the house, intent on finding his girl. He stretched his senses and finally picked up the faint trace of her scent as he raced through the city. The only thing aiding him was the fact that she’d not bothered to try and cover her tracks, figuring that blocking him from feeling her would be enough to keep him at bay. Well, she had a lot to learn about him if she thought that was going to stop him.  
  
His sensitive ears picked up the sounds of her crying before he actually saw her. He paused momentarily, her grief washing over him, her tears doing more to unnerve him than he thought possible.  
  
She needed him, whether she realized it or not.  
  
Whether she _wanted_ it or not.  
  
It’s what he did. He was her sire now, he was meant to take care of her, help her deal with things.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy was too caught up in her sobbing to notice that Spike was near. It wasn’t until he’d knelt behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle that she felt his presence. She turned towards him then, throwing her arms about him, her crying increasing to inconsolable proportions – grateful that he’d come after her. That he wasn’t upset with her for nearly draining him dry.  
  
“Sorry… so sorry,” she mumbled over and over in between her tears, his black shirt quickly soaked to his skin where she hid her face from him.  
  
Spike just held her close, running his arms down her hair and back, a soothing rumble emanating from his chest. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there like that, both of them kneeling in the wet grass, oblivious to anyone who might happen past. Eventually he felt her shudders slow and then stop altogether, yet the death grip she had on his back did not subside. It was as if she were trying to sink into his skin and become a part of him.  
  
Not that he minded in the least…  
  
But, he needed her to look at him. He had to tell her that they were going back to Angel’s, back to Los Angeles, that he and Angel would help her get through this, while at the same time, preventing her from harming anyone else. Placing one hand beneath her chin, he gently tilted her head up. His thumb traced the ridges on her brow; her eyelids fluttered closed, shielding her eyes from his penetrating gaze. He lowered his head, flicking his tongue over her distended fangs.  
  
Buffy didn’t even realize that she was still in game face.  
  
Spike continued to soothe her, allowing her to gain control over her erratic emotions and get the demon to retreat behind her human mask. Only then did he tell her of his plans, about her watcher’s imminent arrival, and Dawn’s agreement to stay behind in Rome.  
  
Buffy’s eyes opened, her expression resigned as she stared up at him. Then she nodded, though for the life of her, she wished she wasn’t going back just yet. The green demon’s prophetic words that he’d spoken to her over the holidays seemed to mock her.  
  
As if _she_ could escape what was going to happen. Not a chance of that happening now. Spike had unwittingly set the ball in motion with his announcement of their return trip to Los Angeles.  
  
Buffy just prayed she had the strength that Lorne claimed she was going to need to see herself through this next catastrophe. Her friends’ fate was in her hands now.  
  
She felt herself pulled to her feet then the ground gave way as she was lifted and cradled against Spike’s chest as he began the return trip home. Buffy laid her head against his shoulder while he walked, too exhausted and emotionally drained to do anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

Los Angeles  
  
“It’s too bad Spike left before we could manipulate him. Almost regret sending him our little present. I would have liked to have seen him take Angel down a peg or two. I heard there was no love lost between the two vampires and it could have worked to our advantage.”  
  
“Yeah, but now, by all appearances, they’ve buried the hatchet. He even showed up here for the winter holidays.”  
  
“Well, at least he’s out of our hair, again,” Lindsey murmured, pulling Eve closer. He brushed his lips against her forehead before turning to eye the box beside the bed. “You leave our present for Angel?”  
  
Eve grinned, her fingers tracing the concealing markings on her lover’s chest. “Oh yes!”  
  
“And, no one suspects a thing?”  
  
“Nope. I dumped some relic in their lap and had them put a rush on it. They’ll be busy until I can get back with…” she paused a moment, leaning over Lindsey to touch the box holding their secret weapon for Angel. “… ‘mama’ here.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Eve pulled away from the box and once more concentrated on the bare-chested man beneath her. Her lips lowered to his eagerly, and soon the two lovers were rolling around on the bed, shedding the remainder of their clothes as their hands roamed possessively over each other.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Earlier that day…  
  
Angel glanced down at the phone, lost in thought. Why hadn’t he kept them there? Why had he let them go back to Rome? For all that they didn’t get along, he’d enjoyed having Spike back in his life. Buffy, too. Heck, even Xander had been alright to be around now that he’d pulled that self-righteous stick out of his ass. He chuckled to himself and leaned back in his seat, the springs groaning slightly in the otherwise silent office.  
  
Another thing he’d enjoyed was the “hands on” during his time in Rome. Beating evil with fists and swords – making the world a safer place, if only for a little while. Now that he’d made a deal with the devil – literally – he’d become so dissatisfied with his life. He rationalized his decision at the time by telling himself that he was providing his son with what he would want. If he had to move his operation here, to the place he’d spent the last four years trying to defeat, so be it. The senior partners thought they were holding all the cards. They’d soon realize that he was not that easily manipulated.  
  
Suddenly, his door burst open and he watched as Wes and Gunn marched inside his office, arguing about something.  
  
“What you’re proposing could take weeks. We can’t afford the delay,” Wesley argued.  
  
“Forty-eight hours, maximum. There are at least two initiates to his inner circle who’d jump at the chance to overthrow him,” Gunn replied.  
  
“You’re overlooking the tactical merits of my assassination scenario.” Their voices continued to rise in volume as each debated the benefits of their plans.  
  
“Guys…”  
  
“Hey, in _my_ plan, he still wakes up dead by Thursday,” Gunn told him, oblivious to the vampire trying to get their attention.  
  
“ _Guys_!” Angel’s voice yelled over theirs, momentarily stopping their dispute. “C.E.O., right here, in the dark.”  
  
“Sorry, Angel,” Wes replied, once more the reserved British gentleman as he handed Angel a file. “Lucien Drake. He’s a warlock.”  
  
“An evil warlock and a cult leader. Got over a thousand followers. We’re pretty sure they sold most of their children down the Hades River in return for some serious demonic mojo,” Gunn added.  
  
“One more religious fringe group stockpiling weapons, but in this case, the weapons are black magicks of the most dangerous variety.”  
  
“And you want Wolfram  & Hart to stop them,” Angel responded, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Neither of the two men seemed to notice. Just kept up their commentary as they explained what they wanted to do. When he could stand it no longer, he snapped, his growing dissatisfaction at not being able to accomplish anything worthwhile in his position as the head of the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart and his worry about Spike and Buffy the driving force behind his outburst.  
  
Fred walked in the office as he jumped to his feet, ranting about getting back to basics, and killing everything evil. Ignoring their shocked expressions, Angel continued to vent his displeasure, how they were slowly being molded by the senior partners into their way of thinking.  
  
When he finally finished his tirade, he plopped back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his eyes wearily.  
  
“Angel, are you okay?” Fred asked tentatively.  
  
“Yeah… just tired.”  
  
“Well, why don’t you get some rest. We can hold down the fort here for a bit.”  
  
For once, Angel took her advice, rising wearily to his feet and crossing the room towards the private elevator that would take him to his suite. He stepped inside and waited for the doors to shut. Before they had a chance, his arm shot out and he poked his head out at the three staring at him somewhat cautiously.  
  
“Gunn, get a meeting with your best Judas. Feel him out, but don’t tip your hand. Any hint of him carrying word back to Drake, we go with Wes’ plan.”  
  
Then he removed his hands and let the doors close softly.  
  
Inside his bedroom, Angel stripped out of his clothes, for once not bothering with where they fell. He pulled back the covers and climbed beneath the sheets, settling them around his hips. Worried about Spike and Buffy, his dreams were troubled, senses so attuned to them that he didn’t hear the woman sneak inside his room and unleash the blue bug upon his bed. As the creature sunk its teeth into his stomach and injected its neurotoxins, Angel’s dreams shifted, leaving him confused and disoriented as his colleagues messed with his mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Rome  
  
Giles looked around the de Vinci airport, arms laden down with his suitcases – for the most part filled with books – as he caught the attention of a waiting cabbie. Driving with Dawn once was enough, thank you very much, and he didn’t want to have to bother the others to have someone pick him up from the airport. And, with the brief message from Spike, he hadn’t time to relay any flight information to the worried vampire. No, the taxi ride was by far the easiest solution. Although, once he settled in the back seat and the driver asked him his destination, Giles had a fleeting thought that Dawn would have been the safer of the two drivers. With his fingers gripping the faux leather of the seat, he closed his eyes and whispered prayers for divine intervention to keep them from crashing. Somehow he managed not to pass out from the breath he held as the cabbie wove in and out of the light traffic and eventually, the vehicle reached their destination.  
  
Upon arriving at Buffy’s home, Giles stared up at the building, attempting to see through the walls and pinpoint his charge. He paid the driver and grabbed his cases, letting himself into the building using a copy of the key to the front door.  
  
Dawn poked her head out from the kitchen, coffee cup in hand, not surprised at seeing Giles let himself into their house. Spike had interrupted her studying earlier to tell her that he and Buffy were going back to Los Angeles. She thought to argue about going with him, but there had been something in his eyes that unnerved her. He was scared. Spike was scared and was trying to hide it. But she’d easily seen the tightness of his jaw, his body coiled with barely constrained tension, as if part of him was on constant alert to the goings on in the house. So, rather than argue with him, she told him she understood. He’d smiled then, pleased she hadn’t fought him, ruffling the hair on her head and telling her to get some sleep and that they’d talk more later. She’d rolled her eyes at him and swatted his hand away then went back to studying as he walked out of her room.  
  
Now, as she looked at the unkempt features of Giles, she had to wonder how serious this latest episode was with Buffy.  
  
“Oh… good morning, Dawn! I didn’t see you there.”  
  
“Hey, Giles. How’s it going? We’ve got you in your old room, by the way.”  
  
“Thanks… that’s… I’ll just get settled with my things then, and join you shortly.”  
  
“That’s okay. Get some sleep. You look like you could use it. I’m just going to go lie on the couch and watch some TV. Do you need any help with those?” she asked, gesturing to his two suitcases.  
  
“No… no. I’ve got them. Right… erm, I’ll just be heading up then. Jetlag and all.”  
  
Dawn watched as Giles made his way up to the second level until he disappeared out of sight down the hall. Seeing him had just increased her worry, but she had to trust Spike and Giles to know what they were doing. With her cup of coffee in hand, she walked through the foyer to the living room and turned on the television.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Giles climbed the stairs to the second level and walked wearily down the hall to the room across from Buffy and Spike. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when the door to her room abruptly opened and Spike’s own haggard features peered out.  
  
“Spike,” he greeted, coming to a stop in front of the door to his borrowed room.  
  
“Hey, Rupes.”  
  
“Is Buffy…?”  
  
“Upstairs. Locked in the training room and won’t come out. Says it’s not safe to be around the others. As if I’d let her cause them any harm.” Spike shook off his anger, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He was frustrated and tired, unable to sleep since the Slayer had demanded to be let down, then run to the third floor and lock herself inside. He’d not bothered chasing after her… there was no talking to her like this – even if he was her sire. Instead, he’d paced the confines of their bedroom for the remainder of the night, waiting for Giles to arrive.  
  
“Yes, I rather imagine she would. She never did like to lean on anyone, and she’ll see this as a failure on her part. She is supposed to be the new ‘Slayer mom’ for lack of a better term, and yet she’s trying to kill them. Best let her be for now, let her work things out in that head of hers.”  
  
“It’s the vampire demon, Rupert. It’s too pure to settle for anything less than human blood… or sire’s blood. I’ve got no problem being her bloody tap, but I’m not always gonna be there. You’re gonna have to tell her. She’s gotta give up the animal stuff. It just encourages her demon to rebel until she completely loses control. She won’t listen to me. Maybe comin’ from you, she’ll see she’s only exacerbating the situation.”  
  
“I’ll have a talk with her before you both leave. What time is Angel arriving?”  
  
“He’s not. He’s sent the jet for us. Prolly left just after I hung up with him, so it should be here sometime this evening.”  
  
“Good, that’ll give me a chance to get settled in here and sleep for a few hours. Bloody red-eyes are insufferable. Didn’t sleep a wink the entire trip. You look like you could use some rest as well. And don’t argue with me. You’re not going to help Buffy if you’re not up to peak form yourself.”  
  
Leaving the vampire no chance at rebuking him, Giles lifted his cases and walked inside his room. Not bothering with the bags for now, he stripped down to his underwear and slid between the cool sheets and was asleep in moments.  
  
Spike stared at the closed door and let out an involuntary sigh. His eyes lifted unconsciously towards the ceiling, trying to discern the Slayer’s whereabouts. He knew she was up there, sensing her presence with his nose. But, she’d still not opened the portal of their claim; he couldn’t tell what emotions were running rampant through her mind. He glanced back in the room towards the unmade bed – there was no way he was going to sleep in it without her.  
  
Their bedroom door clicked softly as he pulled it shut behind him, and he marched with determined stride towards the end of the hall and the stairs that would carry him to the third floor. Halfway up the steps, he felt her. She’d obviously fallen asleep, and with her guard down, once more their link had been established. Even in sleep, she was restless and hurting and Spike vowed he’d break the door down to reach her if he had to.  
  
His hand upon the doorknob barely made a sound as he checked to see if it was still locked. Spike cursed under his breath when he noticed that it was, indeed, still locked, and he barely paused before using his strength and twisting the piece of metal off in his hand, cringing slightly when the other half clattered to the floor.  
  
Opening the door, he noticed she hadn’t stirred from her place beneath the weapons on the wall. Maybe it was because she sensed no danger, or she was just too tired to hear the slight noise, but Buffy continued to sleep, oblivious to his presence in the room.  
  
Spike debated as to whether to gather the Slayer in his arms and carry her back to their room, or just slide in behind her on the floor. He eyed the hard surface with distaste, knowing his answer. The path of least resistance. Lying down beside her, his chest erupting with a soothing rumbling sound, he pulled her back into his arms, relieved when she offered up no resistance. She’d fallen asleep crying, her partially undried tears staining the front of his shirt as he held her close. The soft vibrations emanating from his chest continued to offer comfort and his hands ran lightly down her hair and back. It wasn’t long before his motions stilled and he, too, drifted off to sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy woke and knew that she was held tight in her lover’s arms. Spike. Her sire. She could feel his worry for her, yet it was eclipsed by his love. So deep and honest, it nearly overwhelmed her with its intensity, and she couldn’t prevent her arms from squeezing him close as she nuzzled his chest. In answer, the sounds increased, rushing over her enhanced senses, the comforting sound easing her in a way his words had been unable.  
  
“I love you, Sire,” she whispered softly. “I’m sorry I…”  
  
Before she could complete her thought, she found herself on her back, penetrating blue eyes shocking her with their intensity as they stared down at her.  
  
Lying on his side, weight supported on one arm, Spike leaned in to caress her face with his free hand. “Nothing to be sorry for, pet,” he told her, his fingers tracing her smooth brow, cheekbone and jaw, before lowering his head and claiming her lips in a tentative kiss.  
  
Buffy attempted to lift her head and increase the pressure, but his hand held her in place, allowing him to continue with his gentle seduction. Relaxing back against the floor, she let him set the pace to their reunion, and nearly wept as his tender touch left her mouth to trail a cool path towards her ear. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as he made love to her, using nothing more than lips, tongue, and hands.  
  
Spike’s hand traced a path down her body and work its way beneath her shirt. His fingers caused her stomach muscles to clench as they moved higher seeking the lace and silk material covering her breasts. He easily undid the front clasp of her bra and moved one cup to the side so his hand could knead her bare flesh.  
  
Buffy tried to lie passively in his arms, allow him to work his magic upon her body, but the feel of him tweaking her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger was too much for her to take.  
  
“Spike,” she begged, arching up into his hand.  
  
“Mmmm… so responsive,” he murmured, his body sliding down over hers so that his mouth could lave attention to her other peak. He settled himself between her legs, shoving her shirt out of the way and freeing her breasts to his gaze. As the one hand continued its nerve-wracking attention to one breast, his mouth lowered to the other, his teeth clamping on the red scrap of material that hid the other from him. Finally unencumbered, his tongue darted out to circle the areola, drawing a ragged moan from Buffy.  
  
“Like that, pet?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for her to hear him and ground out a hissed, “yes.” Followed by a ragged, “more.” Spike didn’t disappoint; sucking on her puckered nipple, or swirling his tongue over the malleable flesh – no part of her was left untouched. Driving her crazy like this, slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, was having an effect on him. His cock was straining against his jeans, desperate to be inside her, sliding in and out of her while her muscles squeezed him tight.  
  
But now was not the time. For one thing, they were upstairs in the training room. And with the doorknob now broken, providing no means of privacy, it wasn’t the place to finish what they had started.  
  
Buffy nearly cried out in despair when he lifted his head from hers and moved to set her clothes to rights. Her body was strung so tight from his brief foreplay that she would go mad if she didn’t get some kind of relief. And fast. Her mouth turned down in a becoming pout, one she knew her lover was powerless to resist, and she smiled happily when he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. Used the opportunity to pull him flush against her body.  
  
“Minx!” he growled, although, not upset in the least. “Come on. Let’s finish this in our room. Don’ feel much like puttin’ on a show right now. Your girls can bloody well find out about sex on their own.”  
  
Buffy cheered somewhat that he was just postponing their fun for a different locale and not ending it entirely, as had been her first thought. She allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and led down to the second level. She glared at him over her shoulder when he urged her towards their room with a smack to her backside, telling her he’d be up in a minute and that he was grabbing them something to eat. Knowing better than to tell him she wasn’t hungry, she rubbed her abused posterior and marched off towards her room.  
  
Spike watched her walk away, until she stepped inside their room and shut the door. Only then did he resume his pace and continue down the flight of stairs to make his way towards the kitchen. Several girls were in the room, in various stages of making lunch, and he greeted them as he moved to get two large mugs of blood. Lifting four packets, two for each mug, he eyed the remaining bags, and silently vowed they’d all be consumed before they left tonight – even if he had to force them down her throat. When the microwave dinged, he retrieved the containers, mumbling a goodbye as he left the young slayers to their meal.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike was still in the shower when there was a knock at their bedroom door. Buffy knew who it was before she even opened it, revealing the concerned features of her watcher. Her eyes filled with tears, waiting for his disappointment in her to manifest itself in his gaze, and she was somewhat surprised when he did nothing more than open his arms to her. She flew over the threshold and eagerly accepted the hug, nearly crushing him with her combined strength, but too scared to let go. She didn’t even mind that Spike had probably set her up for this confrontation with her watcher. She was just happy she hadn’t somehow failed him.  
  
“Why don’t we go downstairs to the office and talk,” Giles urged. He looked down to see his charge nod against his chest as she attempted to get her emotions under control. After a few moments, she pulled away and preceded him down the hall towards her office.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Rome  
  
10:30 p.m. local time  
  
Spike’s fingers gripped the plush chair arms as the Lear jet soared into the clear night sky on its return trip to Los Angeles. He didn’t mind flying, it was just the takeoffs and landings that he could do without. Beside him, Buffy sat staring blindly out the window, the full moon illuminating her features, outlining her drawn face. In her hand was the red axe she’d used to aide her in defeating the Turok-han in Sunnydale. Her hand gripped the shaft unusually hard, and he had to wonder what it was she was so worried about that she felt it necessary to bring the weapon with her.  
  
When she’d raced down the steps, the weapon held in a fighter’s grip, neither he nor Giles had asked about it. She’d not even looked at them as she strode out the front door, leaving behind a hurt Dawn and a confused watcher. But the look in her eyes hadn’t invited a confrontation over her behavior towards her sister. Giving her the reassurances Buffy couldn’t, Spike pulled Dawn into a brief hug, whispering his and her sister’s love in her ear. He wasn’t surprised when she pulled away crying to rush up to her own room. While she fully understood their need to do this alone, it didn’t mean that she wasn’t upset at not being able to come along.  
  
“Watcher,” Spike said, extending his hand to the surprised watcher. Giles clasped it in his own, the two staring at each other as the looks conveyed a silent request and response. With a nod of his head, their handshake fell away, and they became two men, uncomfortable with their brief show of feelings. “You’ll look out for the ‘Bit.”  
  
It was a statement, not a question.  
  
Rather than take offense, Giles just assured him he would.  
  
“Tell the ‘Bit… tell her if we’re not back in a few weeks that if she wants to come for the break, I’ll arrange for Angel to have her flown over. Provided you come along, of course.”  
  
“Of course. I’ll let her know when she… erm, comes back downstairs,” Giles replied. He glanced out the open door towards where Buffy sat waiting inside the taxi that would take them to the airport. “You’ll… uh… look after her. She shouldn’t give you any trouble with feeding, although, I suspect you’re going to become quite the pincushion.”  
  
Giles flushed when he realized the implied meaning of the words, but glossed over his embarrassment with a vigorous wiping of his already clean lenses.  
  
“Erm, yes, well… Buffy and I had a talk.” At that, Spike quirked his brow at the other. Both knew how “talks” with Buffy went. Giles coughed then continued. “Anyway, I told her that she was going to have to get past the whole human blood thing. I explained in no uncertain terms that the only way for her to remain in control of her demon was for her to drink human blood. She didn’t like it, but she’ll do it. I’ll keep researching on my end, see if I can offer you more information.”  
  
Giles glanced over Spike’s shoulder one more time, as if to confirm that Buffy was indeed out of earshot. Even so, he still managed his next question in nothing more than a whisper. “Did she say why she needed the axe?”  
  
“No. But I bet it had somethin’ to do with what Lorne told her.”  
  
“The Seer?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“When did this happen? And why am I just now hearing about it? You have to…”  
  
“Easy, Rupert. She wouldn’t tell me about it either, and with everything else that happened since we’ve been back, I haven’t had a chance to ask her about it yet.”  
  
“Well, just see that you do, and I expect nightly reports.”  
  
“Yes, da…”  
  
Giles rolled his eyes at Spike. “You better get out there. Be safe. Tell Angel and the others I said hello.”  
  
Spike had assured Giles that he would, then he walked out the door and made his way towards his mate, climbing into the back seat of the taxi and taking her hand in his. Both were silent on the short ride to the airport.  
  
That had been over an hour ago. And now that they’d leveled out, he had to wonder what he was letting himself in for.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Los Angeles  
  
8:30 a.m. local time  
  
Spike was beyond tired when they exited the jet and climbed into the waiting limo tucked inside the law firm’s private hangar. Although technically the clock said only ten hours had passed since they’d left Rome, with all of the time changes, they’d actually been in the air almost twenty. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed with Buffy and sleep for twenty-four hours straight. Pulling Buffy into his arms, he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes while they were driven to Wolfram & Hart.  
  
Twenty minutes later, the vehicle came to a stop in the underground parking garage below the law offices, and Spike gently shook the Slayer awake telling her that they’d arrived. They climbed out of the car, legs unsteady after sitting for so long, pausing outside the elevators to allow the driver to insert the key that would take them to the upper levels and Angel’s office.  
  
Buffy and Spike were surprised that Angel wasn’t there to greet them once they stepped off the elevator. He had to have known that they had arrived; with his controlling personality he no doubt would have been kept appraised of his childers’ whereabouts. Spike had tried to call himself, like Angel had asked, but had gotten nothing but the incessant ringing in his ear. He just hoped the pilot had been able to alert him of their impending arrival.  
  
Spike clasped Buffy’s hand in his as he moved to where Harmony sat behind the receptionist’s desk answering the phones; her other hand held the axe lightly against her shoulder. Angel’s receptionist seemed surprised to see them so soon; his name shouted loud enough that everyone in the area stopped what they were doing for a moment to glance at the receptionist.  
  
“Harmony, where’s Peaches?”  
  
“Uh… I think he’s still in bed. He hasn’t been in his office since yesterday morning. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you guys were here. I would have made sure your room was ready. _So_ not my fault if it isn’t… hey, Buffy!” she rattled on.  
  
Buffy just gave the airhead a slight smile, too tired to deal with her overly cheerful personality.  
  
“It’s fine, I’m sure. Can’t have been too much to do since we just left here a few days ago.”  
  
Spike walked off towards Angel’s office, pulling the Slayer behind him, seeking the private elevator that would take them directly to his suite of rooms. Something wasn’t right.  
  
All was quiet as the doors swished open directly into his Angel’s living room, and Spike led Buffy towards the bedroom. When they pushed open the door, shocked gasps escaped their lips before Buffy pulled away from him and used the stake end of her axe to spear the creature sucking on Angel’s stomach. It screeched in pain as she ripped it off him and threw it towards the other part of the room. As it flew back towards her, she swung her axe in a smooth arc and easily cleaved the thing in two.  
  
Buffy and Spike stared at the split halves and wondered what the hell it was that had been sucking on Angel.  
  
“Buffy? Spike? Wha?” Angel exclaimed groggily.  
  
Buffy dropped the axe and scrambled onto the bed, pulling Angel’s head in her lap to soothe him and herself. Spike wasn’t jealous in the least, knowing that she thought of Angel as family, her worry for the elder vampire a given now. Spike moved to stand beside the bed, reassuring the Slayer as she continued to fret over him.  
  
“Well… now I know why you didn’t answer your bloody phone. And where the bloody hell _is_ everyone? How come no one has been up to check on you? If we hadn’t come back, who knows how long you would have been like this.” The more he thought about it, the angrier Spike got, until Buffy left the bed and had to soothe him, only to be shaken off as he continued to pace. She rolled her eyes and went back and sat next to Angel on the bed.  
  
“Spike…” Angel began, trying to placate Spike before he got too worked up.  
  
“I mean, bloody hell, it’s not like you can keep your broody self out of other people’s business. They had to know you’d be up and about when we came back…”  
  
“Will!”  
  
“What!”  
  
“’m fine, so quit yer fussin’. Now, be a good lad and get me somethin’ to drink... and call the others in here. See if they can figure out what that thing is.” The emotion in his voice that Spike was worried on his behalf producing the Irish burr he’d spent years burying.  
  
Spike swallowed the retort he’d been about to make and stalked off to do as Angel requested, returning promptly with a full mug of blood. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door to Angel’s suite, and he left the bedroom and opened the door to see Gunn, Wes, Fred, and Lorne standing outside, their expressions showing their concern. Upon returning to Angel’s bedroom, Spike found him sitting up in bed, weak but recovering; Buffy had moved off the bed and was sitting on a chair next to it, her scythe back in her possession. The others followed behind him, Wes and Fred going immediately to the blue creature where Buffy had let it fall to the floor.  
  
Walking over to where his mate sat, Spike pulled her to her feet so he could sit down and snuggle with her on his lap. He was bone-tired, but couldn’t leave just yet and seek his bed. He needed to hear what that thing was, and if they could expect any more of the same.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel watched as his team let themselves out of his room, with assurances to get back to him as soon as possible. The door shut on the last person, and his eyes immediately sought out the two blondes sound asleep in the chair beside his bed. That Spike had fallen asleep in his presence spoke volumes. Told him that for all his outward appearances, the he trusted Angel to keep him safe while his guard was down.  
  
That was something that he couldn’t or wouldn’t forget.


	4. Chapter 4

“Stop it! Both of you,” Buffy snapped. Her head was bowed so that she was unable to see them. But she knew. Knew they were staring at her. Like some lab rat under a microscope.  
  
Lifting her head from the magazine, she fixed her gaze on the two vampires clustered by the desk. One sitting behind the massive structure, the other with his hip perched on its edge. It was _that_ one that gave her a snarky look, scarred brow quirking as if guessing her pique and daring her to call him on it. She did.  
  
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Buffy grouched, eyes narrowing intently.  
  
The two shared a look, neither having said a word in the last five minutes, although their pointed glances and silent gesturing had communicated their concern for the Slayer, and what, if anything, they could do to help her get through this latest trial.  
  
“Wot?” Spike questioned.  
  
“I can practically hear the conversation floating around in both of your heads.” Her voice changed to a saccharine-sweet pitch. “Poor Buffy… what can we do? We need to research this. Find out why she keeps losing it around the slayers.” Her voice returned to normal and she continued with her rant. “Look, I’m feeding, aren’t I? And no episodes in the last few days. I want to go home.”  
  
“You don’t like it here?” This from Angel. The tone of his voice unable to completely mask his hurt.  
  
Buffy tossed the magazine aside, rising to her feet in one fluid motion to cross the office and stand before her family.  
  
“It’s not that, Angel. You _know_ we enjoyed ourselves over the holidays. Spike and I… both of us… we loved the visit. It’s just… this place… can’t you _feel_ it? Pulsing all around you?”  
  
Both vampires looked at her questioningly.  
  
“Evil… almost like The First. Manipulating us. Don’t _tell_ me you can’t feel it!”  
  
“Can’t say that I do, luv,” Spike replied. However, he did sense her anxiety, and reached out and pulled her between his legs to hold her close. Buffy relaxed in his arms, laying her head against his chest. Finally, she turned towards Angel and she could see the confusion and wariness in his gaze, and felt a little better that she’d managed to get him thinking.  
  
“If we hadn’t come back, who knows what might have happened to you, Angel.”  
  
“She’s got a point, mate.”  
  
“This place breeds evil. It’s just a matter of time before it starts affecting us. We should just go… leave this place… go back to Rome.”  
  
“I can’t, Buffy. I’ve got… there’s things you don’t know… things I can’t tell you about. It’s complicated. You’re just going to have to trust me for now,” Angel told her.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and hugged her mate tight, nodding as she resigned herself to staying here. In Los Angeles. She’d done her best to break the chain of events Lorne had foretold, but fate didn’t seem to be cooperating at all. At least she’d been able to get to Fred and just prayed the girl had heeded her warning.  
  
Maybe she could do the same for the rest of it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“What do you mean it didn’t work?”  
  
“Just what I’m saying. I had all his little minions working on something else, keeping them distracted from their boss. But, then _they_ came back.”  
  
“They?”  
  
“Spike… and Buffy. From what I’ve heard, she came in and sliced the thing in two. Apparently, Fred and Wesley are going over the remains in the lab. It’s just a matter of time before they start piecing things together. They didn’t see me, but they’ll connect the dots soon enough.” Eve leaned up on her elbow, gazing down at her lover, her brow marred with concern. “When are you going to be ready to implement your plan?”  
  
Lindsey wrapped his arms around Eve and hauled her on top of his chest. He brushed her hair behind her ears, the gentle touch oddly misplaced on him.  
  
“Don’t worry, baby. Even with the blond pest and his girlfriend back, they’ll be no match for our little secret weapon.” He kissed her, just a mere brush of his lips across hers. A gentle caress meant to soothe. “Inside a week we’ll be ready to show our hand. You just go back to the offices and lay low. ’kay?”  
  
Eve nodded, happy that all wasn’t lost now that Spike and Buffy were back in the fold. Her fingers reached out to caress the markings on her lover’s bare torso, soon forgetting about Angel and the others as Lindsey rolled her beneath him and began nibbling on her ear.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“What have you got, Wes?” Angel asked.  
  
“It was a Selminth parasite. Its teeth inject an anesthetic, making the host oblivious to its presence. You’d never know you had it on you. It pumps neurotoxins into the body causing paralysis, hallucinations, and fever dreams.”  
  
“And if we hadn’t shown up?” Buffy interjected from her seat on Angel’s right.  
  
“He would have been stuck in a permanent vegetative state.”  
  
Spike prowled around behind Angel, upset with where the conversation was going. It wasn’t the first time he wished he had a cigarette in his hand, but Angel had been adamant about his office and the boardroom adjoining it – where they were all currently ensconced – remaining a smoke-free zone. He was ready to put his fist through the wall. That someone had dared to hurt Angel. And here.  
  
Right in the old man’s stronghold.  
  
If Buffy hadn’t had her little episode, he shuddered to think what might have happened. He came to a stop behind Angel, his eyes flashing yellow as he took in the others in the room. Gunn, Wes, Fred, and Lorne all had problems meeting his gaze; Buffy snorted at her mate antics, difficult to do while trying to hide a smile; she was secretly pleased with Spike’s outrage.  
  
Buffy was sure that once Spike realized what he was doing, he’d excuse his behavior away… somehow. But _she_ knew.  
  
“Guess it was a right good thing we showed up when we did,” Spike ground out to Angel’s team members. “’Twer’nt for me and the Slayer showin’ up when we did, who _knows_ what might have happened. I mean really…”  
  
“Will…” Angel growled just loud enough for the other vampire to hear.  
  
Spike glanced down at Angel, still upset on his behalf. He pointed at the others, turning on Angel to rid himself of his worry. His rage. “They’re _your_ gang. They should know your habits. And you sleepin’ for days at a time should have set off some type of warning signal. They shoulda’…”  
  
“That’s enough, Spike. It’s over.” Angel’s voice softened then, taking the sting out of his words and conveying his pleasure at his childe’s ire on his behalf. “You guys got to me in time, so let it go. I’m fine. What we need to concentrate on is _who_ might have done it.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t detect any new scent. Who has access to your private rooms?” Buffy asked.  
  
“Everyone in here. Cleaning staff, personally vetted by me. Eve— EVE! She was in one of my dreams, actually had the thing in her hands. I’d put it out of my head, because I assumed it was just another dream that I was having. But, it had to be her!”  
  
“She’s dead,” Spike growled.  
  
“Now hold on,” Gunn interjected. “You go in there half-cocked, there’s gonna be hell to pay. You don’t get to be the liaison to the senior partners without some serious juice.”  
  
“Sod off, pup. This is family business.”  
  
“Hey! Don’t get mad at me. I’m just interjecting a little rational thought into the conversation,” Gunn defended. “Or what passes for one…”  
  
“I think I liked you better when you just wanted to hit people,” Angel complained.  
  
“Yeah, well, someone has to be the brains behind the brawn now. And it looks like my position was given away,” Gunn replied, looking at both Spike and Buffy huddled near Angel.  
  
“Fine. We’ll play this your way for now. But I want her watched. I want to know every move she makes inside this law firm.”  
  
“It’ll be tough—”  
  
“Just do it,” Angel growled.  
  
“Wait a minute. So, we’re not going to snap Twiggy into little sticks?” Lorne inquired, just catching on to the gist of the conversation.  
  
“Gunn’s right. Although, I’m certain beyond a shadow of a doubt it was Eve that planted that _thing_ in my room… on me. I don’t have proof. And, right now, I can’t take on the senior partners to have her removed. But, we’re on to her. It’s just a matter of time before she slips up and we become wise to her game. For now, we watch… and wait.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy was in their suite’s kitchen fixing a mug of blood, both Spike and Angel sitting on the couch arguing good-naturedly over what to watch – when she felt a stillness come over her. Putting the mug down before she dropped it, she stretched her senses and allowed whatever it was she was feeling to wash over her.  
  
_Twitching…_  
  
_Weak…_  
  
_Bound…_  
  
_Straining…_  
  
_Have to get free._  
  
_They can’t hurt me… won’t let him… them... hurt me anymore…_  
  
_Metal door…_  
  
_Pounding… pounding…_  
  
_Free._  
  
_Revenge._  
  
_Blood._  
  
Buffy shook herself free from the images and shot out the bedroom door, oblivious to the shouts of both Spike and Angel. Not bothering with the elevators, she raced for the stairs, her feet a blur as she flew down the numerous flights of steps. Her only thought to reach her girl before she did more damage.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The two male vampires eyed one another for a brief second before rushing to their feet and dashing towards the open door and Buffy. Caught completely off guard by her abrupt change in attitude, they watched helplessly as she easily left them in the dust. Spike had a moment to catch Buffy’s panic before being closed off to her. The door to her emotions slamming shut just as quickly as she’d departed their company.  
  
“Bloody hell! She’s done it again! Fuck!” Spike roared, racing after her. The two had just passed the door’s threshold, trying to determine which way the Slayer went.  
  
Spike pointed left, towards the door that led to the stairs.  
  
“What the hell just happened?” Angel demanded as the two raced after Buffy.  
  
“Dunno. One minute, everything’s fine and dandy. Then, a moment of panic, like she was scared or something… then nothin’.”  
  
They slammed out of the staircase door on the ground floor, the sudden bang of metal against the wall causing several people to jump in fright thinking a gun had gone off. Once outside the main glass doors, Spike paused for a moment, sniffing the air to pick up a trace of the Slayer.  
  
“This way,” he announced, pointing towards the seedier side of downtown Los Angeles. Angel nodded, matching Spike step for step.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy wasn’t familiar with the layout of Los Angeles, but she knew, instinctively, to head towards the docks, the warehouse district. To get there, she just followed her nose until the scent of stale fish and seawater assaulted her nostrils, not slowing her pace until she’d gained her destination.  
  
Senses attuned to the slightest disturbance along the warehouse waterfront, she walked slowly along the street, a predator stalking its prey. Only, not prey, one of her own. A slayer. Abused and tormented at an early age, the girl’s recent awakening to her new status was too much for her brain to handle. Buffy could practically feel the girl’s fear and confusion.  
  
At a deserted building, Buffy paused. She eyed the structure, assessing the different flavors that wafted in front of her. Something, an innate rightness, told her that this was where the girl was. Easily breaking the lock, she cautiously made her way inside and allowed her demon features to come to the fore, enabling her to effortlessly find her way about the near pitch-black interior.  
  
After a quick circuit of the lower level reveled nothing, she made her way towards the stairs. The creaking steps were a dead giveaway to her approach, but it couldn’t be helped. At least this way, the girl wouldn’t be startled by her presence. When she crested the top, Buffy was surprised to see the girl standing calmly in the corner waiting for her. Not saying anything, her body was tense in anticipation of danger.  
  
Wearing a plaid shirt over a nondescript tank top and a pair of pants, she looked like a second-hand store refugee. The wicked saw she held loosely in her hand belied the skill she possessed wielding the instrument.  
  
“It’s okay now. You’re safe,” Buffy told the girl, her voice soft in an attempt to calm the other’s emotions.  
  
It didn’t work. No sooner had the words left Buffy’s mouth than the other attacked, arm raised as she brandished her weapon expertly.  
  
Buffy easily evaded the girl’s charge. After all, she had Spike for a sparring partner, and her twisted mate never went easy on her… not that she wanted him to or anything. It made dealing with distractions like this – and the dark-haired slayer, for all her power and strength, was nothing more than a trying nuisance against her skill – just a workout. The biggest challenge was for Buffy not to harm the girl while disarming her at the same time. It required a certain finesse.  
  
The girl went sailing into the wall, momentarily stunned from the impact, glancing back at her vampire adversary with evil intent. Shaking herself off, she charged the blond-headed demon, intent on her kill. Again, before her weapon could make contact, her wrist was grasped, and she found herself flipped ass over end, losing her saw in the process. No matter. She was a weapon in and of itself. A killing machine. Gifted with skills made to take out the thing that stood so calmly before her. The smile she gave her adversary was in no way meant to be welcome.  
  
As the two women began exchanging punches and kicks, timed so perfectly their moves appeared choreographed, Spike and Angel chose that moment to barge into the warehouse and race up the stairs.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike reached the top of the steps, his blue eyes taking in the scene at a glance, and he visibly relaxed. His girl was a sight to see, engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another slayer. Poetry in motion, he thought, smirking as the clichéd words crossed his mind. But, it was true. She was the ultimate dance partner, her true talent able to shine through whenever her opponents bore even a tenth of her skill.  
  
Realizing the Slayer had everything in hand, he relaxed against the wall and watched the show, confident as to the outcome. When Angel made to interrupt his girl’s dance, Spike put a restraining hand on his arm, halting his intent.  
  
“Wot? She’ll be fine. Wouldn’t be sporting to interrupt her before she’s finished her number. And, ‘m nothin’ if not a gentleman.” Spike ruined the moment by flashing his teeth. Angel snorted, but did as Spike requested and leaned against the wall to watch Buffy battle with the unknown slayer.  
  
In the end, it was no contest. For all the girl’s gifted ability, she had no discipline, no training. Just raw talent that was no match against Buffy. The dark-haired slayer made a desperate attempt to take out her rival, but Buffy easily countered the move, pinning the girl to the floor with an unbreakable hold. Angel, seeing that it was over, pulled out his cell phone and called the office.  
  
“I need a cleanup crew, and something to transport a slayer,” Angel barked into the phone to one of his security leaders.  
  
“No!” Buffy barked, eyes flashing yellow in defiance.  
  
Angel couldn’t prevent his features from shifting at her tone, a menacing growl emanating from his throat. Spike pushed away from the wall, his body suddenly alert; although, he made no move to interfere.  
  
“She’s mine. She belongs to me. Call Giles. He’ll know what to do.” Buffy looked down at the defeated slayer, broken in more ways than just losing the fight. Her voice softened, almost pleading with her elder. “She… she’s been through enough. It’s time for her to rest. Giles can give her that. Better than anything you could do at Wolfram  & Hart.”  
  
“Alright, Buffy. We’ll do it your way. But there’s no way we’re moving her without her being sedated. I’ll not risk—”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Before the astonished eyes of the two male vampires, she lowered her fangs to the slayer’s neck and bit into her pale flesh. Spike’s demonic visage couldn’t be contained as the scent of slayer blood slammed into his senses. Watching his mate drink from the slayer, even if it was only to incapacitate her…  
  
Bloody hell!  
  
Spike’s cock strained against his jeans, his arousal almost instantaneous. He licked his lips in anticipation of feasting from his childe, knowing that tonight they’d be lucky if they got any sleep at all.  
  
The young slayer finally began to lose consciousness, and Buffy quickly removed her fangs, licking at the wounds on the girl’s neck to stem the flow of blood. After having a taste, she was surprised she’d been able to stop, and so easily. The girl’s blood had been marvelous, almost as good as Spike’s.  
  
Her head lifted, eyes instinctively seeking out those of her mate’s, the smell of slayer blood suddenly overwhelmed by that of Spike’s arousal. Her eyes glittered, promising of delights to be had once they were back home, the young slayer safely tucked away until Giles could send for her.  
  
Crawling off the girl’s back, she bent down and easily lifted her lax form into her arms, carrying her like a mother would a babe.  
  
_‘You’ll find your peace, my girl. I promise.’_


	5. Chapter 5

The steady beep of the machines as they monitored the patient’s heart rate fluctuated slightly and the girl twitched upon the bed. Behind her closed eyelids, the back and forth movement of her eyes indicated her REM sleeping pattern. Snatches of a vision, formatted into some twisted dream played out before her mind’s eye, the grim details of her love’s actions enough propulsion to cause her to claw her way to the surface and escape the confines of her coma. Her fingers began twitching, the sudden movement disrupting the pulse oximeter from her forefinger, causing the reading to disappear from the monitor. As she struggled to wake up, her heart rate increased from its normal resting state. The quantity of her respirations increased as she mimicked the panting in her dreams.  
  
A staff nurse sat at her station near the end of the hall working on her patients’ charts. Normally, it was very routine paperwork since most of the clients were stuck in some sort of vegetative state. The steady drone of the machines provided a soft background music that sped along the process. So, when the first erratic rhythm of one of the monitors sounded behind her, she glanced up automatically to see if there was a malfunction. Her eyes took note of the increasing vital signs and she dropped what she was doing and raced down the hall. She opened the door just in time to see her patient sit up in bed, an indrawn gasp of breath before she got out a croaked, “Angel!”  
  
The nurse hurried to her patient’s side, her sharp eyes assessing for any signs of distress the woman may be exhibiting after waking from a long-term coma. Surprisingly, except for her slight pallor, she seemed rather aware of her surroundings and with full function of her motor skills, evident by her desire to leave her bed.  
  
“Ms. Chase, you need to lie back. You’ve been in a coma. Your body’s not quite ready to take an afternoon stroll just yet.”  
  
“You don’t understand… I need… I’ve got to talk to Angel.”  
  
Stephanie attempted to soothe the distraught woman while employing enough strength to get her to lie back upon her pillow. “If you just rest, I’ll place a call to him immediately, alright? I can have him down her in five… ten minutes tops. But I need you to lie back for me now.”  
  
Cordelia gripped the front of the nurse’s uniform in both hands, staring up into her kind brown eyes. “You promise? You can get him for me?”  
  
“I promise,” she assured the woman. “Now come on… lie back… that’s a good girl.” Stephanie lowered the woman back to the pillows, carefully extracting the woman’s hands from her uniform. She smiled then, hoping to soothe her patient. “If I leave here for two minutes to make that phone call, I’m not going to find you out of bed, am I?”  
  
Cordelia shook her head negatively, suddenly overcome with fatigue after her outburst. She just prayed that the nurse would do like she’d asked.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy and Spike were on the couch in Angel’s office when he came storming in, followed by Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and Lorne.  
  
“There’s nothing more to discuss,” Angel barked out. He stopped before his desk, his back still to them, splaying his hand on the surface as he stared unseeing at the papers scattered everywhere.  
  
_‘What the hell have I become? I’m not a paper pusher. My place is on the streets.’_  
  
His features hardened, and he turned to confront his team. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Spike and Buffy rising to their feet as if sensing a confrontation, no doubt in his mind as to whose side they would choose. Buffy had warned him about this place, and after seeing what he had earlier – nuns brutally sacrificed so that one of his clients could dimension-hop – he was just plain disgusted with himself for ever agreeing to come to Wolfram  & Hart in the first place.  
  
Leaning back against his desk, Angel crossed his arms over his chest and repeated what he’d already told them. “I’m resigning.”  
  
“Angel, what happened last night was tragic. It’s a terrible setback, but—”  
  
“Setback, Wes? It’s status quo. Evil wins, ’cause instead of just wiping it out, we negotiate with it. Or worse... _for_ it.”  
  
“Angel,” Fred began. She glanced over at the other two vampires in the room, slightly unnerved at their silent, yet penetrating stares. “We’re doing the best we can.”  
  
Angel’s expression softened. It wasn’t his team’s fault that he regretted his decision to come here. But, after the situation in Rome and the hands-on defeat of that Draemuir demon, coming back to the law office was the last thing he wanted right now. Last night just seemed to prove his point. “It’s not that you guys aren’t doing your jobs. It’s that we shouldn’t be doing these jobs in the first place... or _I_ shouldn’t,” he told them.  
  
“It’s a nice idea, but has anyone given any thought about what would happen to us if we tried to say bye-bye? The ramifications, I mean. You think the senior partners are just gonna let us breeze on out the front door?”  
  
Fred turned towards Gunn. “You’re saying we’re trapped here?”  
  
As a minor panic broke out among his team, each talking over the other in an attempt to rationalize the situation, the office phone rang. Ignoring the others, Angel grabbed the handset, barking into the receiver, “Angel!”  
  
“Mr. Angel. My name is Stephanie. I’m the shift nurse… oh, you don’t need to know all that. It’s Miss Chase, sir. She’s awake… and asking for you.”  
  
Angel couldn’t be more shocked if the Powers That Be had suddenly shown up and granted his Shanshu. “What?” his shocked whisper drew both Spike and Buffy to his side, concern evident upon their features.  
  
“Angel?” Buffy questioned, placing her hand on his arm.  
  
He slowly replaced the handset in the cradle then turned to look at them. “It’s Cordelia. She’s awake.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was decided that Wesley and Angel would go alone, so as not to overwhelm Cordelia. And as it was, Wesley ended up sending Angel on ahead, unable to keep up with his furious pace.  
  
Angel burst out onto the floor, his eyes scanning for someone, anyone, to point him in the right direction. No one seemed to be at the nurse’s station and he was just about to become angry when he noticed a woman in a nurse’s uniform poke her head out of an open doorway and gesture him over.  
  
“Hi,” she whispered, not wanting to wake her patient. “I’m Stephanie. You must be Mr. Angel.”  
  
“Just Angel,” he told her, looking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the woman within.  
  
“Come on in—”  
  
“I thought you told me she woke up. She’s…”  
  
“She’s just resting. Her body isn’t used to being awake. It’s going to take some time for her to build up her strength.”  
  
“Huh? Oh… yeah… okay.”  
  
Just then Wesley arrived, and Angel allowed the man to listen to the nurse’s assessment while he collapsed in a chair beside a sleeping Cordelia. He grasped her hand in his, shocked to feel her fingers tighten around him. When he glanced up at her face, her eyes had opened, a tentative smile curving her lips. He smiled back, grateful to see that she’d come back to him. To them.  
  
“Angel,” she whispered. “I…”  
  
“Shhhh… don’t talk. The nurse says you need to regain your strength.”  
  
“Don’t want to stay here. Please don’t make me stay here anymore.” Her grip on his hand tightened, and he stared at it a moment before turning a questioning gaze at the nurse.  
  
“I wouldn’t recommend it. She’s just woken up from a coma. She should be monitored around the clock at least for the first seventy-two hours…”  
  
“Please, Angel.”  
  
Angel returned his attention to Cordelia, taking note of her pale skin, the almost desperate look in her eyes.  
  
“Is there anything that I wouldn’t be able to provide for her back at the office?”  
  
Stephanie gazed at the CEO of Wolfram  & Hart. There was no way he was leaving this place without her patient. “No…” she sighed. “I suppose not.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out one of her business cards. She quickly scribbled down a few numbers on the back and handed it to him. “Here’s my card. If anything, and I mean _anything_ , changes about her condition, I want you to call me right away. Deal?”  
  
“Deal.”  
  
Angel pocketed the card and bent down and picked up Cordelia, blankets and all, then turned and left the room. Wesley, for once, was quiet on the return trip.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel wasn’t surprised to see both Buffy and Spike waiting in his room when he returned with Cordelia resting comfortably in his arms. Buffy had wanted to go with him, not trusting the timing of her school chum’s waking, and it had taken a look from Angel to Spike to make her stay. Which was why they were here waiting – wanting to be sure that she’d not needed to worry for his safety, that he’d not walked into a trap of Wolfram & Hart’s making.  
  
Buffy felt Angel’s approach, and leapt out of Spike’s lap. Wesley was with him and had opened the door to allow Angel to enter with a sleeping Cordelia in his arms. As he neared the bed, she pulled back the covers so that he could ease her sleeping form onto the mattress, his grateful smile at her thoughtfulness causing her own lips to turn up in answer. Her job done, she moved back towards Spike and crawled back into his lap, nuzzling his neck as his arms tightened about her waist.  
  
Angel sat on the bed and stared down at Cordelia. She’d lost weight while in her coma, her normally sun-kissed skin as pale as his. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have sworn that she’d never wakened, her body deathly still in his bed. His hand reached out and gripped hers, and even in sleep, her fingers squeezed his hand as if reassuring herself of his presence.  
  
“She seemed almost afraid to be left there.” Wesley’s comment broke the silence that had descended upon Angel’s bedroom.  
  
“I know. It’s why I brought her here,” Angel replied, his gaze hardening, coming to his feet as he spoke. After what she’d been through last year, he wasn’t about to let her be subjected to any machinations Wolfram & Hart might think up to keep him in line. Better to have her where he could keep an eye on her. Protect her. “Once she wakes up, we’ll see if she had a vision. Maybe that was what finally pulled her from her coma.”  
  
Wesley nodded in agreement. “I’m going back to my office. Call me when she wakes up.”  
  
Angel watched Wesley leave, then turned and looked at the couple sitting in the chair by his bed.  
  
“Why don’t you two go to bed? There’s nothing to do now but wait, and you both look like you’re ready to drop on your feet.”  
  
Spike thought that was the best idea he’d heard Angel utter in a long while. Not that he didn’t sympathize with Angel – he’d seen the look of concern on his face as he’d held the cheerleader – but honestly, last night Buffy had worn him out to the point that they’d not even gone to sleep, just risen after their marathon sex session and gone to Angel’s office, only to find him out with the others. And rather than go back to bed and actually sleep, Buffy had made him stay there and wait for Angel’s return. Combine that with his body still adjusting to the time change and Spike wanted nothing more than to slip between the sheets, pull his mate’s body close and rest.  
  
“Come on, luv. You heard him,” Spike told Buffy as he stood up from the chair, holding her close. “Ain’t doing nothing here but watching the cheerleader sleep, and Angel can do that by himself. What say you an’ me head on back to our room?”  
  
“But…”  
  
“I’m sure Angel will call us the moment she wakes up… won’t you, Angel?” Spike asked.  
  
Angel nodded, walking the pair towards the door that led out of his room.  
  
Buffy, knowing they were right, nodded reluctantly and settled herself against Spike’s side. “You promise?”  
  
“Yes, I promise.”  
  
Buffy wasn’t sure what it was that was compelling her to hear about her formal rival’s situation. But something was telling her that Cordelia hadn’t woken on her own; it was like fate had stepped in and done it for a reason. She just wanted to know why.  
  
“You’ll be alright here by yourself?” Spike asked as he paused at the door.  
  
“I’ll be fine. Sleep, childe. I need you strong.” For what, Angel didn’t know. It was instinctive, his warning. Buffy’s caution was rubbing off on him, and better to be prepared than caught unaware.  
  
Spike nodded and quietly left the room, the soft click of the door closing behind him the only sound as he walked along the hall towards the room he shared with the Slayer.


	6. Chapter 6

Once inside their borrowed quarters, Spike and Buffy did no more than shed their clothes before climbing naked between the sheets. Spike pulled Buffy close, wrapping his arms about her as he curled himself into her backside, nuzzling his face into her neck. He was just about to drift off, mere moments away from restorative slumber, when he thought he heard the Slayer mumble something.  
  
“Wha’s that, luv?” his sleep-laden voice asked.  
  
“You called him ‘Angel,’” Buffy repeated a little louder this time.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Not ‘Peaches’ or ‘Poofter,’ but ‘Angel.’”  
  
Spike stiffened in surprise behind her, then forced himself to relax around the Slayer. “Slip o’ the tongue, is all. ’m tired,” he groused, not wanting to analyze his gaffe. But, the Slayer was like a dog with a bone.  
  
“Spike, you’d be moments from near death and you’d still call Angel by one of your snide-y little nicknames.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her brilliant smile seemingly lighting up their darkened room. “Admit it, you like him.”  
  
“I do not… and you… you take that back right now.” Mock anger had him wide-awake and pushing her away as he knelt on the bed beside her. Buffy pouted at being abruptly shoved aside, but a gleam soon came to her eyes, unknowingly tingeing them amber. Spike was such fun to tease – she rolled over and sat up as well, sleep put on hold for the time being.  
  
“Nope. Admit it. You like him.”  
  
“No I don’t,” he pouted, bottom lip jutting out as he crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“Spike likes Angel. Spike likes An—”  
  
The air she’d been using to speak left her with an oomph as Spike slammed into her. His spontaneous tickle-fest left her gasping and laughing as she continued to tease her sire. “I do not!” he growled while he mercilessly attacked every nook and cranny that was susceptible to his teasing touch.  
  
In between her laughter, her childlike, “Do too’s” rang out, and it was a wonder that someone hadn’t banged on their bedroom door to get them to keep the noise level down.  
  
Spike suddenly stilled above Buffy, his body half draped over hers as he delighted in her smile, her carefree abandon as they’d romped on the bed. It was as if her past, all the painful hurt she’d experienced before, had melted away for the moment, leaving behind a glimmer of the girl she’d once been like, had probably been like, before being called.  
  
One that seemed intent on needling her mate almost ruthlessly.  
  
Her laughter died down at the lack of over-stimulation to her more delicate, sensitive parts, and she lifted her head to regard her lover.  
  
“What?” she asked confused, surprised at seeing the intense look upon his face, her face losing a bit of its shine.  
  
He smiled then, a joyous smile that caused her own lips to return to their upward trend.  
  
“Nothin’, pet. Just…you should do that more often, ya know.” At her slightly puzzled look, he elaborated. “Smile, luv…. You’re bloody beautiful when you smile.”  
  
If anything, her smile got brighter than before – nearly blinding in its intensity. Her eyes misted over with unshed tears at his compliment. The simple words taking on a whole new meaning at the way he voiced them, the intensity in his husky voice as it washed over her.  
  
“I love you,” she mouthed, cupping his face and pulling him down for a kiss.  
  
As kisses went, it was far from passionate. Merely a brushing of mouths in thanks for his kind words. But it soon changed – demons forced to restraint now being granted free rein.  
  
Spike slanted his mouth over hers, the force of his kiss demanding that she part her lips and submit to his onslaught. She eagerly complied, desperate to taste him now, even if it had been only a few hours. Since coming to Los Angeles, their joinings had been almost violent in their intensity, as if their demons took hold the second they touched one another. And for Buffy, the fact that she’d only had sire’s blood, except for when she’d had to subdue Dana – which seemed to have only made it worse – proved that her demon was never far beneath the surface. As if it knew that the only time it was allowed to dominate completely her other half – her slayer half – was when she was with her sire, her mate, like this.  
  
And Spike didn’t seem to mind either. Seemed to know that the near savagery during sex seemed to satisfy her bloodlust, leaving Buffy better able to cope during the time they spent away from this room.  
  
Now was no different, and Spike tore his mouth away from Buffy’s to flip her onto her stomach. She gained her hands and knees quickly enough, and he took but a moment to coat the tip of his cock with the fluids stealing from her core and clinging to the nest of curls covering her sex before he rammed his way home. Buffy cried out at the invasion, her body barely having time to adjust before he was thrusting into her pussy with surprising strength from one who’d been on the verge of sleep.  
  
Her blood seemed to call to him, and Spike draped himself over her back and struck, his fangs sinking unerringly into his mark. He heard her cry out at the second penetration, felt her inner walls nearly strangle his dick as she came. He somehow managed to ride out her first orgasm, unwilling – unable – to let it end just yet. He ripped his fangs from her neck, leaving the wound to bleed.  
  
Instead of allowing her body to recover, his fingers delved into her glistening curls, rubbing furiously at the oversensitive flesh until she tumbled again. Spike’s eyes damn near crossed this time, but still he wasn’t through with her – his hips never letting up on the punishing pace as thumb and forefinger tormented her. He could feel her struggling to get away, desperate for some relief from his hand, but Spike was merciless.  
  
She flashed her fangs and issued a growl, and he growled back, striking her shoulder in a gesture of dominance, stilling momentarily as he dug deep. Her aggressive nature retreated at the rather painful bite and he immediately let go, licking lovingly at the new wounds until it closed. Then his movements began again, even more forceful than before.  
  
Buffy let Spike have his way with her, her body on sensory overload, unsure if she could handle another orgasm. The thought had no sooner flashed across her mind and she was splintering into a thousand pieces. So completely at his mercy, she could do nothing more than whimper as her body convulsed around his again. Breathing an unnecessary sigh of relief when she felt him return to her neck as he fell over the ledge and joined her.  
  
Utterly sated, she collapsed to the mattress beneath her, enjoying the feel of her sire as he draped himself like a blanket over her. If she were able, she would have giggled at his deep breaths as he tried to recover from their latest lovemaking session.  
  
When she felt enough of her mental faculties had returned, she turned her head to the side.  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
Spike didn’t even pretend to misunderstand her.  
  
“Your teasin’.”  
  
She twitched beneath him, letting him know that it was time for him to get up and let her cuddle.  
  
“But I tease you all of the time,” she complained once she’d resettled herself on her side, Spike curled up behind her.  
  
“Not like that you don’t.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” she murmured, a little frightened.  
  
Sensing her sudden discord, Spike tightened his arms about her. “Don’t worry, luv. I won’t ever let you hurt anyone.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“It’s the nature of childer to be submissive to their sires. The dominance reaffirms their place and provides a sense of security, yeah? And you were just pushing to make me do it.”  
  
“But…it was just fun.”  
  
“I know, luv. And on one level I knew it was too. But, I could see… see how bad your demon needed the reassurance.”  
  
“Is that why we’ve been so violent lately?” she asked timidly. “Not that I don’t mind… it’s just… I like the soft, too.”  
  
“I know you do, baby. And so do I. But, it’s not what your demon needs right now. It’s struggling to find its place… and I’m doing it the only way I know how.” He didn’t tell her the other ways he could bring her in line – that stunt he’d pulled in Rome came to mind and he quickly repressed the memories – swearing to himself that he’d never be like that. It was an honor for him to be her sire, her mate – he’d not belittle that by resorting to the harsher methods vampires used to keep their childer in line.  
  
“I love you, Spike,” she mumbled, snuggling closer, satisfied with his explanation.  
  
“Love you too, Buffy.”  
  
“I still say you like him,” she murmured, just moments from sleep.  
  
“Well, maybe a little,” Spike acquiesced. “But that doesn’t mean we’re gonna be holdin’ hands and singin’ bloody koombayas together. Now sleep, childe. You’ve darn near wore me out, and I need my beauty rest.”  
  
Snuggled next to Spike, she let out an unladylike snort, but did as he requested. Her eyes drifted shut, and she allowed sleep to overtake her. Spike felt her body go completely still against him, and he gave her a brief hug and joined her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel managed to relax into the chair pulled beside his bed once the noise down the hall quieted. A cold shower was definitely in order. Realizing that Cordelia would likely sleep through his absence, he moved off.  
  
As the frigid pelting of the spray washed over his hair and bulky frame, he allowed his mind to wander, to think about what had happened since he’d accepted Wolfram & Hart’s proposal almost a year ago. True, he’d given up his son, ensuring that his boy had a good home, a loving family. Giving him the security and protection he’d been unable to provide when Connor was just a babe. Then, as if fate had seen the selfless sacrifice he’d made, Angel had been gifted with the return of Spike, only to have it later expand when Spike had sired Buffy. He’d been content, if not exactly happy.  
  
And now Cordelia was back.  
  
His Cordy. The woman he’d thought he’d loved – who he had planned to meet that fateful day so that they could discuss their growing affection for each other – was back. Except for that brief moment where she’d begged him to take her away, she’d been sleeping. Her body apparently in a resting slumber, which seemed incongruous given that she’d been in a coma for nearly a year. But, right now, he had no idea what – if anything – she remembered, whether she still bore her gift, her curse. And what it all meant that she’d awakened now.  
  
Just when he’d started to doubt his reasons for taking control of the Los Angeles branch of the “enemy.” The same enemy that Buffy had beseeched him to see for what it was not long ago.  
  
It made him wonder if it was really Cordelia, and not the demon that had possessed her body last year. The one that had made a mockery of all the good she’d done since joining his team.  
  
Add to that the growing clash between Buffy’s demons _and_ the secret she seemed to be keeping from Spike – from him – and Angel was in full brood mode.  
  
Deciding that the effects of the ice-cold shower had brought his raging emotions under control, Angel turned off the taps and exited the glass-encased marble structure. He snagged a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his hips, leaving the bathroom behind. His bare feet made no sound as he crossed to the huge walk-in closet to grab a fresh set of clothes. With Cordy occupying his bed, and so many matters weighing heavily on his mind, there was little chance he’d be sleeping anytime soon.  
  
Restless with nothing but time on his hands, he grabbed one of the sketchpads given him by Spike and Buffy as well as a handful of pencils and returned to his sentry post in the chair placed next to his bed. Shifting all but one pencil to his stationary hand, he used the other to outline the face of the woman slumbering so peacefully. As his hand flew over the paper, his mind wandered.  
  
_What if?_  
  
What if he and Cordelia had in fact met up? Would they have been together? Would Connor be an aberration? Would he have had to make his deal with Wolfram  & Hart? Carry the amulet to Sunnydale only to have it gifted to Spike? Would there be thousands of slayers running around, the byproduct of Buffy’s ingenuity? Would she be a vampire like him, destined for darkness, Spike her sire and mate?  
  
So many questions. So many possibilities.  
  
Like everything that had happened in his life, to those he regarded as friends and some now family, had stemmed from that fateful missed union.  
  
When his hand finally stilled, he stared down at her likeness, his thumb brushing along the jaw and blending the pencil marks.  
  
Maybe her being back was his second chance, and not the whim of an interdimensional god seeking to rule a new world. Maybe it was the Powers giving him a token prize, a return of what had been abruptly taken away, for him to stay the course.  
  
Towards dawn, Cordelia started to fidget in her sleep, caught in the grips of a dream, a nightmare. Her hand seemed to search the huge bed as if looking for something, seeking some type of reassurance. Angel got up and sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. His hand clasped around hers, silently proving that he was here, and would look after her now.  
  
Her eyes flew open at the contact. The deer-caught-in-headlights look only relaxing once her gaze landing on who had been touching her.  
  
“Angel,” she gasped, breathless. “Where am I?”  
  
A smile marred his usually dour features.  
  
“You’re safe. You’re in my bedroom.”  
  
“Your bedroom?” She glanced around, confusion drawing her brows together. “This isn’t the Hyperion. Where—?”  
  
“Shhh. It’s okay.” He patted her hand, awkwardly trying to soothe her. _‘When did this get so hard?’_  
  
“We’re not safe. _You’re_ not safe.”  
  
The wide-eyed panic got to him, made his grip on her hand tighten almost painfully.  
  
“What is it? Is it a vision?”  
  
“V-vision? No… no vision. At least I don’t think so. More like a dream… a feeling. But, it didn’t hurt, whatever it was, so…”  
  
“Do you remember... what… that is, why don’t you think it’s safe?”  
  
Cordelia concentrated hard, as if trying to remember everything she could, before she spoke. “It was like snapshots, really. A man, I can’t see his face, wearing these symbols. But that’s not really that important. A girl with dark hair, only… only with blue streaks. Weird demons. And the Shanshu prophecy. That was in my dreams too.”  
  
“The Shanshu prophecy?”  
  
“Yes,” she replied. Weariness suddenly overcame her and Cordelia closed her eyes. “You signed it away.”  
  
Angel stared at her aghast. It couldn’t be possible. He’d fought hard on the path of redemption. Shanshu was to be his reward for all of his pain, for what he’d given up to be the champion of the Powers.  
  
“That’s not possible,” he gasped.  
  
Shrugging off sleep, she opened her eyes and took in his stricken expression. As he’d done for her, she pulled her hand free and covered his, rubbing the surface in a soothing gesture.  
  
“It’s not your path. Was never meant to _be_ your path,” she told him.  
  
“But how—?”  
  
“I just know.”  
  
“But, you said it wasn’t a vision… how can you be sure?”  
  
Cordelia just arched her brow, reminiscent of the “Queen C” attitude she once bore.  
  
Angel didn’t respond, but his shoulders slumped dejectedly. It may not have been a vision, but what she’d spoken was the truth. He was destined to be a vampire until he was but dust.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Angel wasn’t in his office later that morning, the gang came looking for him in his suite. Buffy and Spike were the first to show, although both knew not to go any farther than Angel’s bedroom. Letting Cordelia sleep in peace, Angel shut the bedroom door and the three vampires moved into the outer room to cluster on the living room furniture to chat.  
  
The knock at the door took none of them by surprise, having smelled Wesley as he walked up the hallway. Angel raked his hand through his ungelled hair, the sight of which had alerted both Spike and Buffy to his agitation. His feet carried him across the room before Wesley’s loud knocking could disrupt Cordelia’s sleep. Angel wasn’t surprised to see him looking just as unkempt as he. The sudden return of one of their own to the awake and living was cause for much speculation... and research. Angel wouldn’t be surprise if Wesley had stayed awake all night just as he had.  
  
“Wes, come in,” he greeted as he opened the door. Wesley looked up from the book he’d been perusing on his way over and smiled awkwardly at the hand he still held poised in the air.  
  
“Hmmm… yes. Good morning, Angel. I trust your sleep was as restful as mine,” he announced, stepping across the threshold. He noticed Spike and Buffy cuddled on the couch and waved hello, noting the closed bedroom door. “Did you learn anything useful from Cordelia?” he asked Angel.  
  
Angel nodded and gestured for him to take a seat next to the others while he shut the door. He soon joined them, his expression grim as he relayed Cordelia’s dream to the others.  
  
“So, we got us a man with marking’s and a bloody blue chit? Anything else? There’s gotta be a good reason for her to suddenly wake up now. I’m with the Slayer on this… seems too opportune, like them whatsit… senior partners are up to somethin’.”  
  
Angel shook his head, and Spike knew right away that he was lying. But he held his tongue until the after the watcher left. He’d give Angel a moment to come clean, then all bets were off.  
  
“Wes, why don’t you round up whatever you can on mystical markings and bring it up here. When Cordy wakes up, I’ll see if she can describe what it was she remembers from her dreams. Also, let Gunn and Fred know where she is and have them stop in and see me. Tell Harmony to handle my calls and reschedule any appointments I might have had for the day.”  
  
“Give me an hour.” Wesley walked towards the door to carry out Angel’s request, his mind already running through the list of the books he might need.  
  
When the door reopened moments later, Angel thought it was Wesley returning to impart something he’d forgotten to mention. Instead, Eve stood in the doorway.  
  
“You weren’t in your office downstairs. Didn’t think you’d mind me barging in, what with Wesley just leaving and all.”  
  
“Eve, I mind you breathing. Get out.”  
  
“Yeah, sure. In a minute—”  
  
The menacing growl coming from the couch took a little piss out of her vinegar, but she recovered like the senior partner liaison she was, pasting on a falsely sweet smile as she spoke to Angel.  
  
“Er… right. Actually, I’m here to convey the partners’ concern. A little issue of you letting a client skip out of our dimension. Dead nuns we can deal with, but the firm’s out ten million in bail costs.” Her gaze slid towards the two seated on the couch. “I ask you, is that any way to run a business?”  
  
Buffy surged to her feet, intent on putting the bitch in her place, but Spike held her back.  
  
“Cute… who are your friends, Angel?”  
  
“None of your business, Eve. You’ve done your job. Concern duly noted, only that it’s not. Now, get the hell out of my suite.”  
  
Just then, all eyes turned to the door cutting off Angel’s sleeping area from the rest of the room. Cordelia stood framed in the doorway, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. Buffy knew right away that her high school bud wasn’t up to her best – the brunette would never have been caught dead wearing the backless wonder that was her hospital gown.  
  
Eyes raking over the newcomer from head to toe in a quick appraisal of weakness, Eve asked, “Who’s she, Angel? New bed buddy. Although, I have to say, that hospital getup… so last year. Eep!”  
  
Angel had her hand wrapped around Eve’s throat and her body lifted several feet in the air before she could finish her derogatory statement.  
  
“You’re leaving now. And if I catch you up here again, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” He tossed her out of his apartment with a flick of his wrist, not caring in the least that she slammed into the wall across from his doorway.  
  
“When the senior partners find out—”  
  
“They’ll do nothing,” he interrupted. “They like their vampire on a leash, just where he is. Just keep in mind... I may be tethered, but if you come within range, you’re liable to get bit.” Angel flashed some fangs, then slammed the door in her face. When he turned back around, his human guise was back in place and Cordelia was being led to the couch by Buffy.  
  
“Cordy! What are you doing out of bed?” he asked.  
  
“Gimme a break, Angel. I’ve been flat on my back long enough. And besides, I _so_ need a shower right now.”  
  
“Come on, Cordy. I’ll help you,” Buffy told her, carefully pulling the girl back to her feet. “Angel, can you get us some makeshift clothing to tide us over until we can get something more her style.”  
  
“Oh, god yes! Some real clothes would be wonderful.” Cordelia fingered the drab gown draped loosely over her frame. “Cuz, this… _so_ isn’t my thing.”  
  
Buffy cocked a look over her shoulder, smirking at the two vampires. Wherever she’d been before now, the reigning Queen had returned to her throne.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Cordelia’s show of bravado lasted until she stepped into the bathroom. There, she nearly collapsed to the marble floor, or would have, without Buffy’s lightning reflexes. She ended up sitting passively on the shower’s hip-high ledge while Buffy washed her off with a gentleness never before existing in their relationship; Buffy had seen the way Angel’s eyes had looked upon Cordelia when he thought no one was looking. Modesty was thrown aside as Buffy climbed in right behind the girl – although Buffy had kept her clothes on. Afterwards, Buffy, dripped water on the floor, bundling Cordelia in a towel and carrying her back to bed, dressing her in the borrowed clothes as the poor girl fought off sleep.  
  
With Cordelia once more huddled beneath the covers, Buffy rummaged through some drawers until she found an old pair of sweats and a button down shirt to put on. She threw her wet clothes in the hamper, along with the towels; the hospital gown went into the trash. A quick tidy of the bathroom, followed by a check on the sleeping girl, and Buffy returned to the living area.  
  
She plopped down on her sire’s lap and nuzzled his neck.  
  
“Uh, pet? What are you doin’ in Peaches’ clothes?”  
  
“Yeah… ummm. Cordy needed some help, and I figured it was easier just to climb into the shower with her.” Buffy saw the dark thundercloud forming above Angel’s head and she stopped him before he could rush into the bedroom and wake the girl up. “She’s fine, Angel. Just a little wore out. _Aaaannnnd_ … I put her back to bed, so leave her alone and let her sleep.”  
  
Angel flashed her an annoyed look at her having seeing right through him, to which Buffy batted her eyelashes. With a quick kiss to Spike’s lips, she shoved off his lap and told them she was going back to her room to get changed.  
  
When she returned, the rest of the LA Fang Gang was present… except for Angel. Fred and Wesley sat at a table piled high with various tomes, and Buffy was pleased to see how close the pair was sitting. _‘Good. She listened to me.’_ Lorne and Gunn were talking shop, while Spike paced near the window, looking down at something.  
  
“What is it, Spike?” When he turned to her, she gasped, taking note of his tense body, his demon features prominent.  
  
Seeing her concerned look, he shook it off, his face resettling in the smooth lines of his human mask.  
  
“Dunno, pet.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Something I can help you with, Eve,” Angel called out softly from the doorway to his office. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed casually over his chest, and to the casual observer, he appeared to be all smiles. But the menace underlying his question, the way his eyes shone with amber flicks, told the female caught snooping in his office that he was anything less than pleased.  
  
“Angel! What—? Um, I was looking for the contract on the Dwirsknyk demon. It was something the senior partners needed.”  
  
“Oh, you can do better than that, Eve, surely.” The mocking sarcasm, so much a part of Angelus’ nature, had slipped into his voice. He watched as she began to pace behind the desk, eyes searching frantically for a way out.  
  
“You’ll never make it. And on the off chance that I let you, you’ll only be greeted by my childer. One of whom would like nothing more than to rip your throat out.”  
  
“Excuse me, boss?” Harmony called out.  
  
“Not now, Harmony. I’m kinda busy.” His eyes never left the girl standing stock still across the room.  
  
“Okay, but do I get the afternoon off too?”  
  
That caught his attention, and he turned to look incredulously at his secretary. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Everybody’s gone. The whole building’s cleared out.”  
  
He turned back to the partner’s liaison, who tried to hide her brief flare of triumph but was too slow for him to not notice. “What’s going on, Eve?”  
  
Angel advanced on her, thrilling briefly at the rush of fear that coursed through her body. He breathed deeply the intoxicating scent, laughing as she thought to run towards the elevators – right where he wanted her to go. Clasping the back of her neck with his hand, he guided her inside and upstairs to his apartment and the others. Over his shoulder he called out, “Harmony, take the rest of the day off.”  
  
Harmony’s happy squeal was cut off as the elevator doors closed behind him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The elevator doors opened silently into his living room, his deserted living room. His bedroom door stood open, however, and he steered Eve towards it.  
  
Cordelia was awake again and propped up on some pillows, a huge book open on her lap. Everyone else was clustered near the bed, some sitting on it, others near it – but they all had a book open, even Spike, trying to find the symbols in the seer’s dreams.  
  
“We have a problem,” Angel announced without preamble, drawing everyone’s stare. “Eve, why don’t you share with everyone.”  
  
“I don’t know anything,” she lied.  
  
“Buffy… Spike…” he called out in his most Angelus-like voice, drawing instant notice from the pair. “Meet Eve… the one that decided your sire should spend eternity in dreamland.”  
  
Spike surged to his feet from his seated position in the chair. Buffy moved to stand as well, but Spike stopped her. “Uh uh… my right.” He slowly stalked his prey, a prize from his sire.  
  
Seeing his evil countenance and knowing Angel would do nothing to stop the other, she caved. “Okay… _okay_! I’ll tell you what I know,” she cried, trying to wedge herself behind Angel. “J-Just make him stop.”  
  
“Oi, pet, you wound me,” Spike snarled.  
  
“Tell us what you know, Eve.” The menace in Angel’s tone had her stuttering out a reply.  
  
“I-It’s a f-fail-safe… T-The senior p-partners were never certain they could keep you under their thumb, so they created a fail-safe. Housed it in the sub-levels of the building.”  
  
“What kind of fail-safe?” Buffy asked, joining Spike.  
  
Eve eyed the slayer-turned-vampire and prayed she’d live through her explanation. “I don’t know exactly, but it’s huge and alive… and specifically designed to destroy Angel.”  
  
“How do I stop it?” Angel demanded.  
  
“Only way to shut it down is in the chamber itself.”  
  
“Well, if that’s true, then who activated it in the first place?” Fred asked as she put her book down and stood up, crossing the room to stand with the others.  
  
“Couldn’t have been Eve, she was with me in my office when Harmony gave me the news,” Angel announced.  
  
“Had to be someone else,” Gunn added.  
  
“Uh? Guys?” Cordelia called out. Everyone had formed a small circle around the traitor, leaving Cordelia alone on the bed.  
  
“Someone with the ability to slip past Wolfram  & Hart’s security system,” Wesley hypothesized.  
  
“Guys!”  
  
Nine sets of eyes pivoted to her.  
  
She smiled at the group, turning the book around and propping it on her knees. “These are them!”  
  
Wesley walked over. “You’re sure?”  
  
“Yep.” She handed the book to the former watcher to let him decipher what exactly the marking were.  
  
“Protection runes derived from the Enochian alphabet. The ones from your dream are symbols, some kind of concealment spell. ‘Clouds before the all-seeing eyes,’” Wesley read.  
  
“In English, Wes,” Angel asked.  
  
“They protect the bearer from being viewed remotely from higher powers, seers, mystics. Or, transposed to today, any means of modern surveillance,” Wesley surmised.  
  
“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Spike questioned his sire.  
  
“Yeah.” Angel glanced over at Gunn. “Lock down the building, make sure he can’t get out. Wes, you think you can undo the magicks of those symbols.”  
  
“I’ll see what I can do. I’m going to need some help.”  
  
“My dance card is free,” Lorne volunteered.  
  
“I can help, too,” Fred replied.  
  
“Which just leaves a li’l matter of the double-crossing bitch here,” Spike concluded.  
  
One swift punch to Eve’s jaw by Buffy and she was out like a light.  
  
“Problem solved.”  
  
Spike beamed at his mate, and even Angel cracked a smile.  
  
“Cordy, you’ll be alright here until Gunn gets back?”  
  
“Yes, go… I’m sure you don’t have much time.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Leaving Spike behind to deal with the zombies wasn’t sitting too well with Buffy, but he’d insisted, almost to the point of telling her to go with Angel with his dreaded sire’s voice. Something which the two of them would be discussing once this latest crisis passed.  
  
With Angel pulling on her arm, the two raced down the final set of steps towards an open area, coming to a halt on the bottom step as they nearly crashed into the human that appeared to be waiting for their arrival.  
  
“Lindsey,” Angel growled.  
  
“Hello, Angel. Right on schedule, and with a date.”  
  
“You always did have a thing for vampires. Too bad this one belongs to someone else, too.” Without turning around, he spoke to Buffy. “Shut it down, I’ll deal with him.”  
  
“Is this the part where I get all weak in the knees? Promise not to do it ever again?”  
  
“It’s a little late for that,” Angel replied.  
  
“There’s always time for redemption. Isn’t that your whole thing?” Lindsey taunted.  
  
Something flickered briefly in Angel’s eyes then was gone. “You had your chance. I guess some people just never change.”  
  
Angel moved in to strike, and quickly found out that his opponent had gone through some changes.  
  
“I have,” Lindsey smiled menacingly.  
  
Rising from where he’d been thrown against the wall only to crumple upon the ground, Angel slowly gained his feet and assumed a battle stance. Off to his right, he could hear Buffy banging against the metal contraption as she attempted to force the machinery to stop its release sequence. He closed off his mind and concentrated on Lindsey.  
  
Their fight was like a well-choreographed dance, punches and kicks delivered and blocked as the two tested each other’s skill, noting flaws in the execution, the rebuttal. Their movements blurred, the two gliding across the room, neither able to find any weakness to exploit and gain the upper hand.  
  
Eventually, however, Angel began to tire, and then made a slight mistake that allowed the human to take advantage. Thus began a series of blows that drew blood, cracked bone, until Angel was tossed against a wall one too many times to remain conscious.  
  
Buffy leapt from behind the control panel with a speed that took Lindsey by surprise. Her rage was spectacular, making the blonde almost glow as she flew at him. Just the distraction that caused him to take a fist to his jaw that sent _him_ flying into the wall.  
  
Lindsey fought off his body’s desire to slip into unconsciousness. He was so close, was about to regain everything that had been lost him. If he could stall just a few minutes more, it would be too late for even the former slayer to save Angel.  
  
But he never got the chance. She was on him in seconds, giving Lindsey the beat down he had recently delivered to Angel. With one final punch, he fell to the ground to arise no more, the last thing he witnessed before blacking out was Buffy beating on the control panel to give up its prize.  
  
The whoosh as the container settled into silence accompanied him into oblivion. He neither saw nor felt the senior partners’ portal open and whisk him away.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike, Buffy, and Angel collapsed on the couch in Angel’s living room, the two males broken and bloodied, but grinning like loons. Buffy sat at the edge of the couch near the chair occupied by Cordelia, ignoring her mate.  
  
“C’mere, luv, and give us a kiss,” Spike teased. He knew he was in deep shit for sending Buffy away with Angel, but figured Angel would need the most help. And he’d been right, as it had been Buffy that had left the human unconscious before dismantling the opening mechanism of whatever it was that had been locked within the container.  
  
Buffy huffed and pointedly ignored her sire.  
  
Cordelia watched the lover’s spat with a smile on her face, sharing a look with Angel. She noticed that Angel seemed rather jovial, even if he looked like death warmed over. Having Spike and Buffy here seemed to be good for him. She took her eyes off her boss to watch Spike sidle up next to Buffy, his lower lip stuck out as he tried to pout his way out of her funk – but she was having none of that.  
  
“Oi! Buffy… now, pet… it was only six of ‘em,” he wheedled. “Can’t rightly call m’self a master vamp if I can’t take on the likes of six zombies.”  
  
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at him. Spike disregarded her attempts to ignore him, curling up next to her side and purring into her neck.  
  
“Slayer? Love?”  
  
She tried to resist him. Honest. But the lower lip thing? And the mark-nuzzling thing – which, by the way was _so_ not even fair – and she crumbled. Besides, it wasn’t the fact that he’d fought the zombies by himself, it was that whole sire-commanding thing he would have done. That, unfortunately, was a discussion not meant for mixed company. So for now, she relented and cuddled into his side, much to the amusement of the other two in the room.  
  
Spike was too smart to be amused by her capitulation.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Drusilla twirled around in circles with her new dolly, Miss Becky. She’d picked up her new companion a while ago, Miss Edith having become rather stingy with her visions.  
  
But not Miss Becky.  
  
Miss Becky told of the red that was going to paint the home of her Daddy. Told Drusilla it was time to make her way to the city of Angels. Her family was there after all. And a new one to soon join.  
  
Yes, it was time to leave the City of Sin, the city that never sleeps. Time to take her precious under her wing.  
  
Unmindful of the dead bodies littering the floor of the seedy after-hours nightclub, she danced to the tune in her head, her dolly held at arm’s length. She hummed a tune, whispering about tea parties and dresses and such, yellow eyes gleaming with delight.


	7. Chapter 7

Angel eyed his team from his seated position at the middle of the table. Spike and Buffy had left a while ago; well, more like after the third time the group had repeated the same story about Eve and Lindsey and the group’s lack of progress in determining where the duplicitous pair had disappeared. He was ready to call it a night himself. Cordelia was upstairs sleeping peacefully, but he was nervous… afraid even. Like if he weren’t standing watch over her, she’d disappear. Vanish without a trace.  
  
Rising to his feet, he concluded the meeting and told his people to get some rest.  
  
“I would, but I’ve got five or six more hours of spell detailing to do,” Wesley replied.  
  
“Yeah. I’ve got a mess of briefings to go through,” Gunn added.  
  
“And I have to redo the entire Trask experiment. Knox really dropped the ball on that one,” Fred retorted in a rare moment of blame-laying.  
  
“Yes, he is unreliable. Good point,” Wesley commented.  
  
Fred rolled her eyes at Wesley but couldn’t prevent the small smile that formed on her lips as he badmouthed the guy that seemed determined to ask her out.  
  
“Wes!” she admonished.  
  
“What? I’m just agreeing with you,” he told her, stepping through the doorway leading out into the main office foyer.  
  
Angel, as the last one out, pulled the office door closed behind him. He paused for a moment, hand still on the door knob, demon sitting up to take notice at the presence of his childer – and not Spike and Buffy either. The sensation was soon gone, however, and he shook himself and released the handle, mumbling a distracted goodbye to the others as he walked towards the private elevators that led to his apartment.  
  
“Bye, Angel,” Fred called out cheerfully before turning to Wesley and asking, “Do you want to join me? To… you know… work on your spell stuff while I fix the Trask experiment?”  
  
“Okaaaaaaay…” Gunn slapped Lorne on the back, knowing a cue to get lost when he heard one. “Come on, Lorne. How ‘bout I buy you a drink before I start on the stack of depositions sitting on my desk? Leave these two lovebirds alone.”  
  
Lorne seemed upset that he’d been kept out of the loop on the latest office romance brewing right beneath his nose, grumbling under his breath about people needing to sing a bit more often. He allowed Gunn to lead him away from the pair blushing like teenagers.  
  
“We could go to Caritas…” Gunn’s voice drifted back to the pair still frozen by the stairs. “…I can dazzle you with my rappin’ skills….”  
  
“Please, god, no,” Fred and Wesley thought they heard as the elevators closed on the two men.  
  
“So….” Wesley began after they were alone in the foyer. “…a joint work session.”  
  
Fred blushed some more, but refused to back down. Giving him her sassiest smile, she told him, “Uh huh,” before making her way up the stairs that led to her office.  
  
Wesley, not mistaking the look in her eyes, hurried after her.  
  
Both were oblivious to the twin sets of eyes that followed their departure.  
  
~*~ *~*~*~  
  
“Tell me again why we’re allowing them to leave,” Sam demanded of the woman at his side. She’d snuck up on him earlier as he’d hidden one level up, watching intently as Angel and the others entered the meeting room.  
  
“Naughty boy!” she sing-songed, dancing in a circle about him. “Mustn’t spoil the tea party.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes at the crazed woman and moved to go around her and intercept the humans but had barely managed to skirt past when he was stopped cold by a hand at his throat. His neck felt like it had been locked in a vise that was slowly squeezing him to death.  
  
“Who are—?” he managed to gasp out as he stared into her surprisingly lucid gaze.  
  
Drusilla cocked her head to the side as she regarded him.  
  
“Bad daddy,” she commented. “Not telling you about—”  
  
She lifted her head suddenly, as if sensing another’s approach. Her eyes closed in delight and she hummed a few faint strands of some melody he’d never heard before. He tried to get free once more, but her grip hadn’t loosened even a fraction of an inch. The spell was over just as quickly as it had begun, and she pinned him in place with a look.  
  
“Later,” she told him. “Come. We don’t want to spoil the surprise. Miss Becky does so love a good surprise. You don’t want to spoil her fun, do you?”  
  
“Uhh…. no?”  
  
Sam didn’t know who the vampire was, but realized that for all her crazy ramblings, she was powerful in her own right. And right now, he really didn’t want to piss her off. If she wanted to wait, he’d wait. After all, it wasn’t like Angelus – or Angel, as his sire was calling himself these days – was going anywhere.  
  
Neither was he.  
  
“Good boy!”  
  
Drusilla released him immediately, clapping her hands excitedly and bouncing off towards the exit, her nature reverting to that almost child-like innocence of before. The pair escaped out of the Wolfram & Hart law offices before anyone was the wiser.  
  
Why he followed after her was anyone’s guess. She’d intrigued him about the daddy comment. Then there was the whole tea party that sounded like fun, especially if it caused Angel pain.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The week seemed to slip by for Buffy, only because there seemed to be a lull in the aftermath of Eve’s deception. The absence of the senior partner’s influence had confounded even Angel. Which was why Buffy was waiting anxiously for the other shoe to drop. Even her conversations with Lorne produced no results; the green-skinned demon couldn’t tell her any more than he had at Christmas, hadn’t even commented on the subtle alterations she’d made. Apparently, since Cordy’s return, his “visions” regarding those among the LA gang had dried up like the proverbial well.  
  
His statement seemed to ring false with Buffy, given the haunted look about his eyes, but she didn’t prod him further. Instead, she concentrated her energies on those around her, her eyes and ears alert to everything and everyone. When her behavior was commented on by either Spike or Angel, she shrugged their concerns aside. She knew the two talked when she wasn’t around; she’d caught hints of their silent communication when they thought she wasn’t looking. But she couldn’t share her concern with them, having interfered enough as it was. To have more people in the know would only invite disaster.  
  
The stress of the situation seemed to be getting to her, which caused her to sleep later than usual today. Spike had obviously already left the room, no doubt trying to let her catch up on her rest. She quickly showered and dressed, gulped down two packets of blood – human, per her Watcher’s request – and hurried from the room.  
  
Not sensing either male vampire, or Cordelia, on the above floor, Buffy took the private elevator that opened directly into Angel’s office. When the doors opened, she was greeted by Angel, Spike, and Cordelia – all of them huddled around the desk as the sound of Giles’ voice came over the speaker phone.  
  
“…not having much luck, I’m afraid,” he was saying.  
  
“Well, keep on it, Rupert. Wes is also looking into the matter,” Angel replied as he glanced over and noticed Buffy standing just outside the elevators. He waved her over. “Buffy! Come say hello to Giles.”  
  
She smiled and walked over, snuggling into her mate as he sat propped on the arm of one of the chairs. “Hey, Giles!”  
  
“Buffy! Hello! How are you?”  
  
“Oh, the usual,” she replied. “Dealing with two overprotective males. But with Cordy back in the land of the living, at least the scales have balanced.”  
  
“Balanced, my arse,” Spike grumbled. Buffy punched him good-naturedly on the shoulder, grinning at her female coconspirator.  
  
“Yes, well, I’m sure they only have your best interests at heart. You’re not giving them any problems with the human blood, are you?”  
  
“No… sheesh! Did Spike put you up to it?”  
  
“Put me up to what?” Giles asked, clearly confused.  
  
“To hound me about feeding,” Buffy grumbled.  
  
“No. And even if he did, we just want…” His sigh could be heard clearly over the phone. “One of these days I’m going to learn not to fall for your leading questions.”  
  
Buffy bit her lip to keep from laughing, but unfortunately, her watcher couldn’t see.  
  
“Just as contrary as Dawn,” he mumbled.  
  
“How is Dawnie?” Buffy asked.  
  
“She’s doing well. A sight more dedicated to her studies than someone else I could mention.”  
  
“That’s not fair! She doesn’t have the whole ‘Chosen One’ label to deal with like _I_ did,” Buffy griped.  
  
“Be that as it may… She’s really amazing, Buffy. She’s been very mature about this whole separation and even comes in to help me research once she’s finished with her homework. Rome definitely agrees with her.”  
  
“I…. that’s good to hear, Giles. Is she there?”  
  
“Sorry, Buffy. I’m afraid not. She and a few of the girls went to a movie earlier. They’re not due back for another hour or so. I can have her call you when she gets in.”  
  
“Okay. Thanks, Giles.”  
  
“Well, I suppose I should get back to my research. I’ll call you if anything turns up.”  
  
“Bye, Giles. I love you.”  
  
“Goodbye, Buffy. Spike. Angel. Cordelia, nice to hear your voice again.”  
  
“Thanks, Giles,” Cordelia replied.  
  
The sound of the line ringing off could be heard and Angel punched a button to disconnect the speaker phone.  
  
“Boss?” Harmony’s voice sounded over the phone’s intercom.  
  
“Yeah, Harmony?” Angel replied as he pressed the answer button.  
  
“Nina’s here.”  
  
He looked through the glass to see Nina standing in front of Harmony’s desk. “I’ll be right out.”  
  
Angel turned back to the others and took in their curious looks. “I’ll be back in a minute… I’ve got… this thing….” He trailed off and made a hasty exit out of his office.  
  
“Did he seem a tad embarrassed?” Buffy asked of no one in particular.  
  
“I’ll say,” Cordelia grumbled.  
  
“Peaches doesn’t know how to do embarrassed, pet. He’s got only one expression… brood,” Spike commented at the same time.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Angel got back to his office, he found it deserted except for Spike.  
  
“Where are the—?”  
  
“Shopping,” Spike answered, cutting him off.  
  
“Shopping?”  
  
“Uh huh. Have to say, you really messed that one up, Peaches. Cheerleader stormed out of here with an evil glint in her eyes. Slayer went along to keep her company. Safe to say your wallet’s gonna take a hit.”  
  
“Think it’ll work?”  
  
“The truth?”  
  
Angel nodded.  
  
Spike shook his head. “Only thing’s gonna fix this is a full-blown confession.”  
  
“She asked me to breakfast.”  
  
“The cheerleader?”  
  
“No… Nina.”  
  
“Ahh… wolfgirl. What did ya say?”  
  
“Nothing. I locked her in her cage and took off out of the room.”  
  
Spike quirked his brow.  
  
“See… the thing is… before Cordy came back, I might have entertained the idea. But now—”  
  
“You want to see where this thing with Cordelia is going,” Spike concluded.  
  
“We were supposed to meet, you know. Point Dume. I’ll never forget. Only…”  
  
“Only?”  
  
“Never mind. It’s not important. It’s just… we never got a chance to say what we both felt. I’d finally let Buffy go. I was going to see about this thing with Cordelia. Now she’s back. And Nina’s in the picture.”  
  
“Right pickle you’re in there, mate.”  
  
Angel frowned at Spike. A knock sounded at the door, and they both turned to see Fred, followed by Wesley, enter the office.  
  
“Hey, guys. I think I have a case.”  
  
“Thank god!” Angel exclaimed. A distraction would be good right about now.  
  
Fred walked over to the desk and handed Angel the file in her hands.  
  
“Children’s epidemic,” she told him. “Seven kids, comatose, each with a semi-rictus of the facial muscles. I haven’t been able to isolate a causative agent.”  
  
“You think it’s mystical.” It wasn’t a question.  
  
“Well, I’ve been down the strictly physiological route, number-crunched all the victims’ charts, even had our hospital contacts send over blood samples. I’ve pulled all their plasma apart. No indicators on the cellular or subcellular levels.”  
  
Angel continued to flip through the pages of the file while Fred explained. “TV,” he said suddenly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Parents said all the kids collapsed between 7:00 and... looks like 7:30A.M. And all of them in front of the TV.”  
  
“Huh. That _could_ be something, but I’d still like to get a handle on the pathology.”  
  
“Good. I’ll—I’ll follow up on this lead. Spike, let the girls know—”  
  
“Will do.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel was never so grateful to be the CEO of Wolfram and Hart as he was right now; it allowed him to sneak into his office unseen from the parking garage via his private elevator. Or it would, if he could reach the key slot with his key. He hopped up and down a few times trying to slam the key into the hole. After the third time, he gave up on that approach and looked around for something to stand on.  
  
Grumbling under his breath all the while, he finally located a discarded box. It took him several minutes since his legs were now cropped to midget length, given that he’d somehow been turned into a damn puppet. His gait was awkward as he tried to carry the box back to the elevator, its size making it difficult for him to see. Eventually, though, he reached the elevator, but only after having tripped over the curb and nearly crushing his “boost.”  
  
With the box in place, Angel carefully stepped onto it and inserted the key that gained him instant access to his personal elevator. Inside, he had another problem reaching the button that would take him to his private office and had to grab the box he’d left outside, nearly getting squashed once the doors started to close. The cardboard box didn’t survive the second attempt as a stepstool, crumbling under Angel’s weight seconds after he had managed to push the necessary button. The entire ride to the top floor was spent trying to disengage his feet from the hole he’d made in the cardboard.  
  
The doors opened without a sound a moment later, and Angel was relieved to find his office empty – he was already dreading the explanations to his team.  
  
Who was he kidding? He was trying to avoid having Spike find out, knowing the insolent vampire would take extreme delight in teasing him mercilessly.  
  
He spent the remainder of the night brooding at his desk, waiting for the moment Fred got in. If anyone could fix his problem, it would be she.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“He hasn’t been back?” Buffy asked Cordelia.  
  
“Nope. I ended up falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to get in,” she replied.  
  
Buffy turned to Spike.  
  
“Don’t look at me, pet. Last I saw him, he was lighting out of his office talking about researching leads on what happened to those kids.”  
  
Buffy walked to the elevator that led to Angel’s office. Cordelia and Spike trailed after her. The trio got out just as they heard Angel say, “Oh, there’s a problem.”  
  
“Whoa!” Gunn took a step back as Angel swiveled in his chair to reveal Angel… only in puppet form.  
  
“Angel, is that… _you_?” Wesley questioned.  
  
“Oh my God!” Fred rushed to his side. “Angel… you’re….”  
  
Buffy beat the girl to him. “Angel! Oh….”  
  
“Buffy,” Angel growled.  
  
“….how _cute_!” Ignoring the growls coming from the vampire-turned-puppet, Buffy lifted him out of his chair and cuddled him close. Fred and Cordelia quickly joined in, fawning over the cuddly softness that was now Angel.  
  
“Awww…. look at his little hands,” Fred gushed.  
  
“And his hair,” Cordelia added.  
  
“And he’s so squeezably soft,” Buffy added, hugging Angel tightly against her chest.  
  
Spike growled possessively and Angel, sensing a way to deflect Spike’s teasing, immediately took advantage of the situation; he snuggled in close to Buffy and wiggled his faux eyebrows at Spike. Being turned into a puppet might not be so bad after all...  
  
“Oi! Slayer! Let ‘im go already. So the poofter’s a bloody stuffed animal. Who cares?”  
  
Spike’s eyes narrowed on Angel as he lapped up the attention, knowing the git was doing it to get a rise out of him. Buffy and the others ignored him, however. Disgusted, he snorted at the fawning women and stalked over to the bar, pouring himself a drink, muttering under his breath.  
  
“Sorry I’m late, gang,” Lorne announced as he sailed into the office. “Uh, what’s with the puppet?”  
  
“That’s Angel,” Wesley told him.  
  
“Whoa!”  
  
“That’s what I said,” Gunn commented.  
  
“Uh…Angel?” Wesley called out. “Angel!”  
  
“Slayer, would ya let the Toys ‘R Us reject go already, the watcher’s tryin’ to talk to the git.”  
  
“Erm, yes… I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but, uh… yes… Angel, what happened?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Angel replied as he shifted on Buffy’s lap to look at Wesley, Gunn, and Lorne. “I went over to Smile Time last night, and I think their office is under some kind of spell. I could feel it trying to get at me. I—I shook it off, but then I met this guy with a towel over his head, and something exploded! I woke up like this. Ugh.”  
  
“Not ugh. Cute,” Cordelia interjected, fluffing his spiky hair.  
  
“Hey! Not the hair.”  
  
“Wot? They make hair products for plush toys nowadays? Face it, Peaches. What you’ve got for hair now is felt. And nappy felt at that,” Spike snarked.  
  
Buffy’s firm grip prevented Angel from launching himself off her lap as he vamped out and growled. Spike started laughing as soon as he got a look at him, nearly spewing his drink as he pointed and gasped, “Ooooh…the wee li’l puppet man has fangs.”  
  
Buffy frowned at Spike, but understood his mirth. Angel as a puppet was cute; Angel as a vampire puppet was kind of silly. Still. It wasn’t nice to make fun of family in front of others.  
  
“Hey, it’s Smile Time!” Angel exclaimed, having suddenly noticed the time. He jumped off Buffy’s lap to hurry over and stand in front of the television.  
  
The opening music to the program resounded in the room as Lorne used the remote to turn on the show.  
  
Fred picked up Angel’s phone and dialed her office. “Tracy, record the program that’s running on channel 12 right now. Use everything. I’m gonna need a full-spectrum analysis.”  
  
Angel growled as the overly-cheerful puppets sang on screen. “I want everything there is to know about Smile Time and its creators on my desk in an hour. Nobody does this to me and gets away with it.” When everyone remained where they were he shouted, “Let’s move, people.”  
  
Team Angel hurried out of the office leaving just Spike, Buffy, and Cordelia behind.  
  
“Little harsh there, don’t you think, Angel?” Cordelia commented.  
  
“Look at me, Cordy. I’m a _puppet_!”  
  
“Still doesn’t give you cause to yell at your people like that.”  
  
Angel hobbled back to his chair on his short, stubby legs. He hopped up on the seat, sighing heavily as he leaned back. “I know…”  
  
“You have to apologize.”  
  
“I… I will. Just as soon as they figure out—”  
  
A knock sounded at the door and a moment later, Nina peeked her head inside.  
  
“Angel?”  
  
“Nina… uh… now isn’t exactly—”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had someone with you. I’ll go.”  
  
“No… wait. Come in.”  
  
Nina stepped inside the office, closing the door behind her.  
  
“Angel! What happened?” She’d just gotten a look at him in his chair.  
  
“Long story. Went up against some big… thing… and it turned me into a puppet. My team is working on it now. Should be back to normal in no time.”  
  
“Oh….”  
  
“Well… I… uh… You’re busy… I’ll let you get back to work.” Nina hurried to the door and was gone before Angel had a chance to open his mouth and call her back.  
  
“Really bolloxsed that one up.”  
  
“Spike,” he growled.  
  
“Wot? I’m just sayin’.” He arched a brow, daring Angel to contradict him.  
  
“Yeah, well don’t.”  
  
“Fine!”  
  
“Fine!”  
  
Buffy and Cordelia rolled their eyes at their childish actions.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
In the end, taking out the puppet demons running Smile Time was rather anticlimactic. So much so, that Spike and Buffy just stood by while Angel and his gang did all the work. Spike, however, managed to get a few digs in about the lack of Angel’s fighting style, causing the other to ground out, “I’d like to see you do any better as a damn puppet!”  
  
With the baddies destroyed, Angel had used his cell phone to call in the clean-up crew and the small group had returned to Wolfram and Hart.  
  
The one good thing that had come out of the entire mess was that Fred and Wesley were officially a couple now; Fred had cornered Wesley after she’d finished her spell, kissing him senseless in the hopes that he’d finally get the picture. Now, huddled together on the couch in Angel’s office, the pair seemed glued at the hip – which, to Buffy, was a good thing.  
  
“Fred? Fred!” Angel finally shouted.  
  
“Hmmm…”  
  
“How long before this wears off?”  
  
“Two… maybe three days,” she answered, not bothering to look in her boss’ direction.  
  
“Three days!”  
  
The office door burst open suddenly and Dawn came barreling into the room.  
  
“Dawnie!” Buffy jumped out of Spike’s lap and raced to her sister’s side. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“It’s spring break. Giles said we could visit. Well, Spike and Angel planned the whole thing,” she replied as she hugged her sister. “I’ve missed you!”  
  
“Oh, Dawnie! I’ve missed you too! So… tell me how school’s going?”  
  
Giles walked in as the pair plopped down on the couch.  
  
“Rupert, glad you could make it,” Spike greeted. “Tea’s at the bar. Had it put on when you guys landed.”  
  
Giles’ look said it all.  
  
Spike smirked in response.  
  
_‘Bloody colonials.’_  
  
“How long can you stay?” Buffy asked.  
  
“For a week… Ummm, Buffy?” Dawn was looking over her sister’s shoulder at the desk chair occupied by Angel.  
  
“Hmmmm?”  
  
“What’s with the doll?”  
  
Spike’s booming laughter resounded throughout the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Fred and Wesley jumped away from each other just moments before Angel and Spike, followed by Buffy, came storming past. Angel was walking well ahead of the pair. Spike was trying to exhibit a modicum of remorse. Buffy was trying to “mother” Angel.  
  
“Angel, would you stop?” Buffy demanded. “Really! You’re acting like a two year old.”  
  
Angel stopped abruptly, whirling around to fix her with an incredulous look.  
  
“A two-year-old? Buffy! Are you kidding? _Look_ at me!” he bellowed. “I’ve got a sword sticking out of my chest.”  
  
“He said he was sorry.”  
  
“ _Sorry_?”  
  
“What the bloody hell was I supposed to do?” Spike yelled. “The thing was on your back, about to strike!”  
  
“Ask me to turn around!” Angel roared back even louder.  
  
“There wasn’t time.”  
  
“You just like stabbing me.”  
  
The two were practically nose-to-nose, the butt of the sword actually jabbing into Spike’s chest.  
  
“Stupid vampires!” Buffy threw her hands in the air in disgust at the pair. She was tired of playing the mediator to the two, and in a fit of pique, stormed away from them and flew up the ladder.  
  
“Oh, _that’s_ just great,” Spike complained to Angel as he noticed Buffy flounce off. “Just _had_ to piss her off, didn’t you?”  
  
“ _Me_?” Angel shouted.  
  
But Spike was already striding off after his mate. “Buffy… Now, luv…” he wheedled, feet barely touching the rungs as he hurried up the ladder to chase after her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike staggered off the private elevator and into Angel’s office late the following afternoon. His normal slicked-back hair was absent; instead the curls usually tamed by the products he often mocked Angel in using stood on end. The duster he was never without was also gone. Even his boots were missing, leaving the vampire to cross the plush carpet on bare feet.  
  
Angel took one look at him and barked out a laugh.  
  
“What? She make you sleep on the couch?”  
  
“No!” he grumbled as he plopped in a chair opposite the desk.  
  
He’d not slept on the couch, but he _had_ been alone in bed. The Slayer had taken it upon herself to sleep with her sister. And after tossing and turning most of the morning waiting for her to return, he’d finally gotten fed up and gone after her.  
  
Only to find that she’d left the building with the Bit and Cordelia. Some sort of shopping expedition. The note she’d penned left no doubt that he was supposed to mend the slight rift between himself and Angel before she returned home or there’d be hell to pay.  
  
Which was why he was here now. Bereft of his armor and trying to placate Angel.  
  
Angel leaned back in his chair, hands pillowed behind his head as he placed his feet on the edge of his desk.  
  
“Why is it that I don’t believe you, Childe?” His Cheshire grin said it all.  
  
“’Cause you’re a bloody wanker?” Spike grumbled.  
  
“Ah ah ah…what would Buffy say?”  
  
Spike bit back a retort, determined not to play into Angel’s hand. The smile on Angel’s face showed that he knew it too.  
  
“It’s taken me over a century, but I have finally managed to shut you up. Oh… this is _good_.” Angel glanced over at Spike to see him scowling fiercely. “What? Something you want to say to me, _Spike_? No? I didn’t think so…”  
  
“Always knew you were a sadistic bastard, Angelus.”  
  
“Just for that, I think another night alone is in order.”  
  
“You wouldn’t!”  
  
Angel arched a brow, his smile unrepentant and reminiscent of the evil demon he used to be.  
  
“Hmmm….” He pretended to think. “There _might_ be a way that I’ll overlook that little slip of yours.”  
  
“Wot?” Spike didn’t like the sound of that.  
  
“Well, I seem to be getting a little low on the hair gel you seem to like to tease me about.”  
  
“So go to the bloody shop and buy some. Or better yet, get the cheerleader to do it. She seems pretty high maintenance. Should know just what kind to get. I’m sure you can call her right now and she can pick it up while she’s out and about.”  
  
“Insulting my girlfriend isn’t going to win you any points.”  
  
“Oh, so she’s your _girlfriend_ now? When were you goin’ to tell the rest of us?”  
  
“Don’t change the subject.”  
  
“Does Buffy know?” Spike asked, ignoring him.  
  
“What does Buffy have to do with anything?”  
  
Spike leaned back in his seat, mimicking his grandsire’s smug pose.  
  
“So, I take that to mean you haven’t told the Slayer yet.”  
  
“No…” Angel was at a loss as to Spike’s sudden turnabout in attitude.  
  
“Seems to me that that’s a rather important piece of information. Seems to me that the Slayer, once she finds out that you were hiding it from her, isn’t going to be too happy.”  
  
“You’re not going to turn this back on me. You _owe_ me!”  
  
The office door opened suddenly, and in walked the girl under discussion… followed by Cordelia and Dawn.  
  
“Spike owes you what?” Buffy asked.  
  
Spike arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited to see what Angel would do.  
  
Buffy repeated the question a moment later when the two males just stared at one another.  
  
“Nothing,” Angel finally muttered, causing the younger vamp to grin broadly.  
  
“So, you’ve settled your differences?”  
  
“Yes,” they grumbled, chastised from the tone of her voice.  
  
“Good.” She beamed a smile at both of them. Family was supposed to get along, and she didn’t like to see the two males bickering constantly.  
  
“Uh? Buffy?”  
  
The Slayer glanced over her shoulder at her sister.  
  
“Yeah, Dawnie?”  
  
“I’m going to head up to Fred’s office. She promised to help me with a physics project I’ve got to do.”  
  
“Okay. Have fun. And don’t make a nuisance of yourself,” Buffy called out as her sister let herself out of the office.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dawn walked into the Science lab and noticed Fred talking with another man.  
  
“I couldn’t find any invoice on it. I thought maybe you went crazy on eBay.”  
  
“No. No eBay,” she replied, walking around the stone-like sarcophagus. After that commemorative plate incident, I’m living clean. Did you run a spectral analysis?”  
  
“Yeah. Everything’s bouncing off it, which doesn’t thrill me.”  
  
“Well, let’s not be hasty about opening it. It’s probably just a mummy.”  
  
Dawn walked over to look at the relic, her eyes intent on the various stones near the head.  
  
“Dawn. Hey! Don’t get too close,” Fred warned. “Oh, have you met Knox?”  
  
The teenager shook her head negatively.  
  
“Knox, this is Dawn, the Slayer’s sister. Dawn, meet Knox.”  
  
The two shook hands.  
  
Knox turned back to Fred. “So, you want me to get HazMat on this baby?”  
  
“Yeah,” Fred replied. “And see where it came from.”  
  
The assistant nodded and left the lab, leaving the two women alone inside. Fred stepped away from the sarcophagus to grab her clipboard. Dawn, ever curious, leaned closer to the stones near the head of the tomb. Mesmerized by the amethyst colored gem, her hand reaching out to touch it.  
  
The circle near it opened suddenly, sending a gush of air straight into the Dawn’s face. She coughed, drawing Fred’s notice.  
  
“Dawn! Are you alright?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she gasped as she drew air into her lungs. “It was nothing.”  
  
“You’re sure?”  
  
“Yeah. Must have just swallowed wrong or something.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“I bloody well will not!” Spike shouted at Buffy.  
  
“Come on, Spike! It’s Dawnie’s last night here.”  
  
“Which begs the question of why we’re taking the Niblet to a demon bar anyway.” He frowned at the Slayer, arms crossed over his chest. There was no way in hell they were dragging him to a demon karaoke bar.  
  
“Lorne says it’s perfectly safe. He’s had the place rebuilt since coming to Wolfram  & Hart and taking over the entertainment division. And, bonus… no one can lay a hand on each other. He’s had the place fight-proofed.”  
  
Spike looked anything but convinced.  
  
“Humans go there too,” she added.  
  
“Fine… fine. But I’m _not_ singin’!” He flat out refused to subjugate himself before the others that way.  
  
“No one is asking you to,” Buffy told him. “Now get changed. We’re supposed to meet Angel and the others in thirty minutes.”  
  
“What’s wrong with—?”  
  
“Because it doesn’t go with this,” she interrupted, holding up a scrap of black that tried to pass itself off as her dress for the evening. “On the bed, I’ve got everything laid out for you.”  
  
“I’m a big vamp, Slayer. I bloody well know how to dress myself.”  
  
“Good, then get to it. We’ve only got twenty-five minutes now.”  
  
Spike grumbled under his breath and stalked over to their bed. He mentally breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the black on black ensemble waiting for him. At least she hadn’t tried to dress him in some poncey colors. Shaking his head in resignation, he stripped out of his clothes and pulled on what she’d picked out.  
  
Ten minutes later, Buffy emerged from the bathroom in nothing more than her thong, her hair and make-up seen to. Perfecting the art of applying make-up without the benefit of a mirror had taken a bit to master, but she hardly ever wore more than mascara and lipstick, so it hadn’t been too much of a hardship learning. She stopped short as she caught sight of Spike leaning up against the mantle of the fireplace, his penetrating gaze locked on her. He looked good – damned good, she amended – in the slightly formal clothes, and she vowed right then that they’d have to go out more often, just so she could see him dressed up.  
  
Buffy turned away to grab her dress from where it lay over the back of a chair and slipped it on over her head. It molded her slight curves, the front plunging eye-poppingly low. The two strips of material that covered her breast met at the back of her neck, fastening together by a small row of hidden buttons. The back was bare almost to her waist, showing off her creamy alabaster skin. The bottom of the dress flared slightly about her knees as if trying to redeem itself for its brazen top.  
  
“How do I look?” she asked, turning back to him. His smoldering look was answer enough, and she gifted him with a smile. “Come on, the others are probably waiting. Well, _Dawnie_ is probably waiting. The others are probably dragging their feet as much as you are. She’s talked of nothing else all day.”  
  
She grabbed her still speechless mate by the hand and led him towards the door.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“I can’t believe you all have me sitting in this infernal disco!” Giles grumbled. “ _Oh_! Is that a _Keshlam_ demon? I’ve never seen one of those up close.” He swiveled in his chair, his eyes following the blue-skinned female as she was led to an empty table near the stage.  
  
“Easy there, Rupes. It’s a club, not a bloody demon museum. Quit gawkin’ at the customers.”  
  
“Yeah, Giles. We’re here to party, not to research,” Buffy added. “Look! It’s Dawnie’s turn to sing.”  
  
Everyone seated around the table turned towards the teenager slowly making her way up on stage. They were all there; team Angel as well as Giles had all come to the new and improved Caritas to see Buffy’s sister back off to Rome. At least until Dawn graduated and moved back to the states.  
  
Buffy was all smiles as the music began, watching Dawn stare down at the monitor as she waited for the first set of lyrics to flash across the screen. She nodded, as if assuring herself when to begin, the final introduction melody played, then she beamed a smile their way and belted out the first line.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The next few moments seemed to play out in slow motion for Buffy.  
  
Lorne gasped and fell over backwards out of his chair, the drink in his hand falling loose and shattering on the floor. Up on stage, Dawn began to convulse, coughing up blood before she tumbled headfirst into the table closest to her. The demon sitting there managed to catch her before she seriously hurt herself, quickly relinquishing his hold on her a second later as Spike gained his side. Buffy and the others were not far behind, forming a protective circle around Spike as he strode quickly to the exit.  
  
“Hurry!” Angel barked. “Let’s get her back to Wolfram  & Hart.”  
  
“Do you think that’s—?” Buffy began, only to be cut off by Angel.  
  
“I _know_ they’re evil, Buffy. But they’ve got the best physicians in the world to tell us what’s wrong with Dawn. Trust me, alright?”  
  
Buffy nodded once.  
  
The group piled into the waiting limousine, the driver incurring a few moving violations as he floored it back to the LA law offices. Well, he would have, if the police had been able to catch him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy started when she felt her sister’s hand twitch as it lay nestled in her own. Her eyes snapped open, her gaze zeroing in on Dawn’s pale face.  
  
“Dawnie?” she called softly to her sister, exhaling heavily when Dawn managed to open her eyes and focus on her.  
  
“Hey…” she murmured, her voice raw for some reason. “What’s…. what happened?”  
  
“You don’t remember?” Buffy asked concerned.  
  
“I… I was singing. Then…” Her voice trailed off.  
  
“It’s okay. Angel— He’s doing everything he can to figure out what’s going on. You just rest.”  
  
Dawn closed her eyes wearily, nodding once for the benefit of her sister. Rest sounded ideal right about now. She couldn’t ever remember being so tired.  
  
The door to the hospital room opened and Buffy was grateful to see that it was Spike. He’d vacillated between staying and keeping her company and shadowing Angel’s steps to figure out what was wrong with Dawn, until Buffy had taken pity on him and shoved him after Angel, assuring him she’d be fine alone. His expression didn’t give anything away as he pulled her to her feet so that he could sit, resettling her on his lap afterwards.  
  
“What is it?” she asked. “Does Angel—?”  
  
“They don’t know anything yet, luv. They’re runnin’ some tests. Hopefully in a few hours we’ll have the results.”  
  
“A few hours?” she whined softly so as not to wake her sister.  
  
Spike pulled Buffy close and kissed her brow, careful not to let her see his trepidation. The preliminary reports weren’t good. Which was why Angel was making them run the tests again. This time with his team overseeing everything. For now, all they could do was wait.  
  
And hope.  
  
None of them had a lead to know which direction to begin their search. Whether the thing with Dawn was mystical in nature, or just the luck of the draw that was the human lottery and some sort of disease.  
  
“Why don’t you go get changed into something more comfortable?” Spike doubted she was chilled in the least, but he knew she’d feel better if she got out of her barely-there dress and high heels. Anything to do away with the reminder of why they were there.  
  
“I don’t wanna leave her.”  
  
“I’ll stay with the ‘Bit,” he rushed to add when he sensed her about to argue. “Just until you get back. She’s resting, luv. She’ll be fine for a few minutes.”  
  
Spike nudged the Slayer to her feet and led her to the door. Opening it, he was thankful to see Cordelia pacing outside.  
  
“Um…Cordy?”  
  
Cordelia stopped her anxious pacing and looked up at Spike.  
  
“Buffy needs to change. Would you mind—?”  
  
“Of course! Come on, Buffy.”  
  
Cordelia rushed to Buffy’s side, slipping an arm about her shoulder, and Spike couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she assisted his mate down the hall to the elevators, like his girl was some china doll on the verge of breaking and didn’t easily have ten times the girl’s strength. _‘Poofter did right by that one,’_ he thought. For all her sass, the girl had a heart of gold.


	9. Chapter 9

Spike left Buffy and Cordelia sitting beside a sleeping Dawn and went in search of Angel. He was just passing by the Science lab when the door opened and he was nearly run over by an emerging Fred.

“Spike! Hey!”

“What’s the rush, pet?”

“I’ve… Well, I’ve been doing some analysis and things aren’t really—”

“Sorry, sweet. I’d love to stay and chat, but don’t really have the time right now. Gotta find Angel and—”

“Oh… That’s…erm… well, I know it was probably a long shot anyway with Dawn, but I didn’t… I mean, I wanted to feel useful…”

Spike waited patiently for the girl to get to the point. Hurting her feelings wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

“It’s this sarcophagus. It came the other day. Just before Dawn arrived, as a matter of fact. And it seemed like too much of a coincidence—”

Spike brushed past her and marched into the lab before she could finish. He made a complete circuit of the stone object, peering at the markings and stones intently.

“Where did it come from?” he asked brusquely.

“I don’t know.”

“Who sent it?”

“I don’t _know_ …”

Fred forced herself not to flinch when the vampire’s gaze left the sarcophagus and zeroed in on her.

“Look. I’m sure this has nothing to do with what’s affecting Dawn. But, well, it’s just a feeling I’ve got, ya know? Dawn was fine before it showed up and now…”

“…she’s not,” Spike concluded. “Thanks, pet. I’ll let Angel know. You keep working and tell me if you find out something, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

Spike smiled at the girl before hurrying from the room. He, too, was one to follow his instincts. And right now they were screaming at him that Fred might have stumbled onto something.

“Sire, the li’l scientist thinks…” Spike started as he let himself into Angel’s office. Both Lorne and Angel were standing in the room, Angel’s face carefully blank as he looked up at Spike’s entrance. “Hey,” Spike called out a greeting as he closed the door and walked over to where the two stood by the desk.

“Hey there, sweetcheeks. Big guy here was about to spill about what the doctors know.”

Spike turned to face Angel and blanched at the elder’s expression. “What? What is it?” he demanded abruptly.

“Spike… it’s…” Angel sighed heavily, unsure how to begin.

“Just tell me already.”

“Whatever it is… It’s… it’s not good, I’m afraid. It’s a parasite of some sort. It’s slowly hollowing out Dawn’s organs.”

“No,” Spike whispered, while beside him, the green demon gasped. “It can’t… Buffy… she’ll… this’ll kill her, Sire. We can’t let this happen. The Niblet… she’s better than this.”

Angel walked over to stand in front of Spike and wrapped his arms around him in a comforting embrace. Too distraught over the news, Spike allowed the show of affection from his elder, taking a moment to bask in his strength and support.

“We’ll beat this thing, Childe. Whatever it takes, we’ll beat it.”

Spike pulled away abruptly, suddenly remembering the sarcophagus.

“Fred. She said this thing showed up in her office. Doesn’t really believe it’s the cause, but…well…” He started pacing, the movement automatic whenever he became agitated. “It’s a sarcophagus. Says it just showed up the other day in her lab. They can’t get a read on it, and there’s no paper trail leading back to how it got there.”

“Why wasn’t I told?” Angel interrupted.

“Dunno. Maybe she didn’t think it was important. Hell, it may not even be related. But it’s too much of a bloody coincidence to pass it off, yeah? Told her to keep lookin’ into it, then I came up here.”

“Um, Angel-cakes? Not to change the subject and everything, but you said it was a parasite, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Well, seems to me, our petite little senior partners’ Judas might know a thing or two about those,” Lorne hazarded to say.

“I’ll bloody well kill her,” Spike growled, his eyes narrowing in remembrance.

“I was looking to work the streets, and we’ve got Lindsey’s address. For all we know, he’s probably sitting there laughing. And if there’s muscle work to do...”

“Let’s make it twice as fast,” Spike added.

“And baby makes three…in case anybody feels like singing.”

~*~*~*~*~

“Just like the ‘Three Li’l Bears,’” Spike commented from the open doorway, inadvertently waking Eve.

“Angel!” Eve gasped, sitting up abruptly and drawing the covers up to her neck. “What—?”

“It’s simple, Eve,” Angel announced, stepping just inside the room. “I’m gonna ask you a question. If I feel like you’re lying, I’m going to let Spike here take a bite out of you.”

Spike’s demon burst forth, the gleam of his fangs causing the woman to shrink back in horror, cowering beneath the comforter.

“The Slayer’s sister is dying. Some type of mystical parasite. And we all know how much you love your parasites, now don’t we?”

“Parasite?” Eve stammered confusion marring her features.

“Spike,” Angel commented nonchalantly. “I don’t think Eve wants to play.”

In a flash, Spike was beside the bed, his hand wrapped around Eve’s throat and pinning her back against the mattress. He loomed over her, licking his lips in preparation of a light snack.

“Tell me about the sarcophagus, Bitch, or I’ll tear your neck apart and bloody well enjoy every minute of it,” Spike growled.

“Sa-Sarcophagus? I t-thought you said it was a p-parasite,” Eve gasped out, struggling for breathe around the hand constricting steadily about her throat. Spike’s amber eyes narrowed on the woman. He could feel the fear pouring off her in waves, and a part of him believed her.

“A sarcophagus showed up in the lab the other day without warning. No papers. No explanation,” Spike informed her. “Fred can’t make heads or tails of it. Predates anything we have on record.”

“T-tell Wesley to look in the source books… for texts long forgotten. The oldest scrolls. D-deeper w-well...”

Eve fainted then, the lack of oxygen too much for her body to handle. Spike released his grip, watching her lungs expand as her body automatically gulped in some much-needed air. His human mask slid back into place as he turned towards Angel.

“Think she’s telling’ the truth?”

“Know of only one way to find out,” Angel ground out, turning abruptly to storm from the room. “And if not...” His voice trailed off, and Spike smiled, quick on his heels. Lorne followed at a much slower pace, unsure about the dark edge to both vampires.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike pushed his way inside Dawn’s hospital room, his face carefully blank. The monitors were obnoxiously loud in his ears, the steady beep mocking as it mimicked his Bit’s heartbeat. Buffy glanced up at his approach and he could see her wavering, the hope that before had been shining bright in her hazel eyes a mere flicker of a dying flame.

“Spike?” she whimpered, rising from her chair and hurling herself into his arms.

His arms wrapped about her back, drawing her close, his grip almost punishing in its intensity. The rumble from his chest was automatic, anything to soothe his Slayer. His mate.

“Have you…?” Her voice trailed off, the question dying on her lips.

“Let’s go outside for a minute, luv.” He felt her nod against his chest, and he stepped back, guiding her towards the door and out into the hallway.

Spike sat her down on one of the chairs, then knelt in front of her. He told her everything they’d managed to garner from the source books. About Illyria. And how it was using Dawn to make it possible to return to this world. He told her about the Deeper Well, a burial ground for demons, for gods.

“Gotta go to England,” he told her. “Rupes and the others… they think we can stop this thing… what it’s doing to the ‘Bit.”

“How—?”

“Don’t rightly know. Wes thinks that the guardian of the Well can draw her back, stop what’s being done here.”

“But Dawnie, I can’t… I can’t leave her here.”

“Not askin’ ya to, pet. Me and Angel will handle this. Rupert too. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Buffy’s fingers tightened on Spike’s, torn. Part of her wanted to go with him, to put a stop to this. Her place was by his side, after all, and she wanted to be a part of the destruction he and Angel would wreak upon the Well. The other half felt that to leave her sister’s side would sign her death warrant. She couldn’t leave Dawn alone, strangers her only companion as the life was slowly being sucked out of her. She wrapped her arms about his neck as Spike stood, hugging him tight. Panic and vengeance warred within her, making her body shake in his arms. Hands tightened about his back, desperate to draw him closer. She could feel herself slipping, giving into despair. Tears formed behind closed eyelids to fall onto pale cheeks and beyond. 

“Spike,” she whimpered. The demon rumbled within, clawing to be free, sensing the other’s weakening stance. Her fingers dug into the supple leather gracing his frame. “Spike,” she whimpered again.

His fangs tore into her neck, hard and unyielding. Buffy mewled at the unexpected pain even as she arched into it, the demon within taking comfort in the brutality of it, the implacable will he extolled over her as her sire. It began to calm in the face of his blatant ownership, cowering from his mastery over her. Yet, oddly comforted by the reassurance of its place in the line, childe yielding to sire – as had been done for ages. She could feel her body relaxing and nestled against him. Felt the demon retreat, until it was just her.

Only then did he lift his head, staring down at her with amber-colored eyes that seemed to delve deep within her soul. His mouth was smeared with her blood, blood he refused to wipe clean. He growled at her, and Buffy couldn’t help but look at him with a bit of hurt in her eyes. Her hand lifted unconsciously towards the marks on her neck, trying to feel the damage done there. Another growl stayed her action.

“Leave it,” he growled, his voice low. Sire’s voice.

She stood there, unmoving. Her body frozen in place at his barked command. Her mind whirling with the reasons for his behavior. His next words gave her the answer.

“It’ll mend on its own or I’ll know the reason why. I’ll be back in twenty-four hours.”

He stormed off without a kiss goodbye – if you discounted the bite – without bothering to look back. A master vampire confident his childe would do as he commanded. Buffy smiled then, grateful. And sent up a silent prayer that he’d cowered her demon enough until his return.

~*~*~*~*~

“I should have stayed behind,” Spike muttered as he stood in front of Angel. They’d been in the air for hours, with him mumbling under his breath pacing back and forth in the aisle, until Angel, in a fit of rage, had towered over Spike, halting his progress, and demanded he tell them what was bothering him.

“What is it?” Giles demanded. “Is it—?”

Angel glared at Giles over his shoulder for a moment, causing Giles to frown. But he closed his mouth and let Spike talk.

“She’s so close to the edge, Sire,” he told Angel, happy for once, to get his concerns off his chest. “I… I bit her. Hard.”

Angel frowned, but nodded. “Did it work?”

“Dunno.” Spike replied.

“Did what work?” Giles asked at the same time.

Angel turned back towards Giles, perturbed at being interrupted yet again. Giles was leaning forward in his chair, watching them intently as they stood in the aisle.

“Sit down, Will,” Angel grumbled. Spike did like he asked without complaint, surprising the permanent brood off his face for a moment. Angel plopped into the chair beside him. Both vampires regarded Giles, trying to determine how much to tell the watcher.

“Spike has been rather… umm…” Angel struggled to think of a word to describe Spike’s sex life with Buffy and not embarrass either himself or the watcher; Spike, he knew, wouldn’t care either way.

“Bloody hell, Peaches! Gettin’ miss-ish in yer old age? It’s like this, Rupes. Buffy’s vampire demon is getting stronger, and it’s only playin’ nice because I’ve exerted myself as her sire. She almost lost it again when I told her I was flyin’ over here to see about this bleedin’ well. I bit her. Harsh like, and told her to leave it till I got back.”

Seeing the watcher’s aghast expression, Angel explained. “It gave her demon something to concentrate on. Spike’s threat…” He turned to Spike. “…and I’m assuming you made one?” At Spike’s abrupt nod, he continued. “The threat will hopefully keep her demon concentrated on that task, and fearful of disobeying her sire.”

“Her condition has been deteriorating, and you’re only just now telling me?” Giles demanded.

“I’m dealin’ with it,” Spike barked back, leaning forward in his chair.

“Right bloody lot of good that’s doin’!”

Spike did his best to maintain his glare. Really, he did. But his lips twitched, causing Giles’ own to lift as well. Then they both were laughing, and Angel had to wonder when the punch line had been delivered.

“Right bloody lot ‘o good that’s doin’,” Spike mimicked, sending both men into another round of laughter.

“Wanker.”

“Git.”

Angel rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation.

~*~*~*~*~

“I say. Do you think now’s the time to be holding hands?” Giles split his gaze between the two vampires and the demons boring down on them as they exited from a door in the trunk of the huge tree.

“Might want to stand behind me, Rupes,” Spike called out.

The demons were just seconds away, and Giles jumped behind Spike as the line – he’d only just noticed – held between the two was pulled taut. He gazed in slack-jawed amazement as two demons were beheaded right before his eyes, neither vampire sparing the decapitated corpses a glance, just making for the discarded weapons flung some distance from the bodies. It was a good thing too, because they were suddenly set upon by more. Giles tried to stay out of the way of the fight, backpedaling when a pair of combatants drew near.

The hard grip on his shoulder nearly shocked the life out of him. Slowly, he swiveled his head around, cringing at what he might find.

“Is that all? We haven’t even started!” Angel shouted in the distance, having slain the last demon in the field.

“I’d say that’s enough,” the man holding Giles announced. Though he’d not raised his voice, it was easily heard.

“Let him go, you bloody pillock, or I’ll slash you to bits and smile while I do it,” Spike growled, his eyes narrowed on the man standing behind Giles.

“Friends of yours?” the man asked of the watcher.

“Er… Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

“Drogyn.” Angel’s voice was low. The barked greeting causing the man standing behind Giles to nod his head in acknowledgment.

“Angel.”

“You’re the keeper of the Well.” It was not a question.

“I don’t care who he is, but if he doesn’t take his hands off the watcher there, he’s gonna find them gone missing.” Spike extended the sword held in his hand, pointing it in Drogyn’s direction.

“It’s all right, Will,” Angel told him, even as Drogyn released his hold on Giles.

“You’re here about Illyria.”

“Yes,” Angel replied.

“Follow me then.” Drogyn turned around and started toward the huge tree, and the entrance to the Deeper Well.

“How—?” Spike began.

Angel shook his head, cautioning Spike to silence, and followed after the Well’s guardian. Spike bit off a retort and fell into step behind Angel, Giles close on his heels.

As they began their descent, Drogyn told the three about Illyria, and how her sarcophagus had disappeared a month past.

“It’s been missing over a month and you’re just now noticing? What kind of crap—?” The incredulous tone wasn’t lost on the guardian.

“Spike,” Angel growled in warning, cutting him off. “He does have a point though,” he added, turning to Drogyn. “The man I remember couldn’t be stolen from so easily.”

“The tomb wasn’t stolen, it disappeared. And, as for my not noticing…” He gestured over the railing and towards the hole. Thousands upon thousands of sarcophagi were imbedded in the circular wall that extended as far as the eye could see. “…my charges are not few.”

“How far down?” Angel asked.

“All the way to the other side,” Drogyn replied.

“But it was brought to us. I don’t understand—” Angel told him.

“Illyria was a great power. So great, in fact, that its acolytes still roam the Earth.”

“I’ll soddin’ well dismember every last one of ‘em.”

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this history lesson, it doesn’t tell us how to get this… this _Illyria_ out of Dawn and back into her sarcophagus,” Giles finally interrupted.

“She’s been freed?” Drogyn demanded, pinning the watcher with a look.

“I think we’ve covered that, yeah. Why the bloody hell do you think we’re here?”

“Spike,” Angel growled again in warning.

“No! We’ve catered to him long enough. It’s time for some answers. Time’s a’wastin’ and I’ll not have the Bit die because Drogy-boy’s got his knickers in a twist.”

Drogyn sighed. “The power to draw back Illyria lies in there. It requires a champion who has traveled from where it lies to where it belongs.”

“And we look like what?”

“Champions,” Drogyn answered truthfully. If Spike thought the comment odd, he didn’t answer. “I didn’t know it was free. If we bring the sarcophagus back to the Well, it will draw Illyria out of your… Bit... and into every single person between here and there. It will become the mystical equivalent of airborne. It will claw into every soul in its path to keep from being trapped. Entire cities… tens maybe hundreds of thousands will die in agony if you save her.”

“No,” Spike whispered, aghast.

“Oh, dear lord.”

“I don’t care,” Angel told the guardian, surprising his two companions.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stared at the monitors, listened as the steady beep got slower and slower. She knew her sister was dying. The stench of death assaulted her nostrils, making her want to rage at whatever was doing this to Dawn. She could feel the gaping wound on her neck. Concentrated on the pain to keep her focused.

Dawn’s eyes opened suddenly, and Buffy was out of the chair in an instant, sitting on the side of the bed and drawing her sister up into her arms.

“Buffy?” The voice was faint, and if she’d not had enhanced hearing, Buffy doubted she would have heard her.

“I’m here, Dawnie,” she whispered, choking back a sob while gently rocking her sister in her arm. “I’m here.”

“Don’t… don’t leave… Cold…”

Her voice trailed off, and her body began to spasm. The force of it knocked Buffy off the side of the bed, to land with a thud on the floor. The machines were whining as Dawn’s vitals skyrocketed, then plummeted…then shot back up again. The rails on either side of the bed jangled loudly as Dawn’s body continued to convulse.

Buffy rushed back to her sister, screaming for help. For somebody to come and make it stop. The noise. Her sister’s fit. All of it. She climbed back up on the bed, trying to calm Dawn, whispering words of love and encouragement. Commanding her to hang on, that Spike and Angel would fix everything.

The blow, when it came this time, sent Buffy hurtling towards the far wall. She shook her head, dazed, climbing unsteadily to her feet. Her gaze narrowed on the empty mattress, and she threw off the dizziness pervading her body to rush towards the empty bed.

The lack of heartbeat, the smell of nothingness, went unheeded by Buffy. She skirted the foot of the bed, and took in the scene upon the floor. Her sister lay unmoving, her body nothing more than a gray stone slab in the shape of her sister. She watched with dispassionate eyes as life was slowly poured back into the body, the skin taking on a bluish hue as Illyria made itself at home. It stood, completely disregarding her presence, its eyes taking in the new vessel, its means of existing in this world.

The thing bearing Dawn’s face smirked then, its head cocked to one side.

“This’ll do.”

And Buffy saw red.

Then nothing, as the vampire demon completely obliterated her presence, shoving her so deep inside herself, she didn’t notice a thing as she tore out of the room, her face a mask of demonic rage. Didn’t taste the sweet human blood of the first person she encountered – a nurse – when she tore into her neck and drank her fill. Didn’t hear the whimsical laughter, scent the smell of family as it drew near, beckoning her out into the night.

To feed.

To wreak havoc upon the City of Angels.

She was too far gone, in a vegetative state at the loss of her sister.

~*~*~*~*~

Angel caught Spike as he let out an anguished cry and nearly collapsed to the ground.

“Spike!” the elder vamp called out. “Will! What is it? What’s happened?”

“Buffy… oh _god_ no… We’re too late.”


	10. Chapter 10

The redhead glanced up from the spell book she’d been perusing, a sudden chill causing her body to shiver slightly. She felt the balance of power shift – magicks unlike any she’d felt since nearly caving to the darkness inside close to two years ago.  
  
It was dark, just like that time, and Willow knew that only something equally strong would be able to tame that which sought to destroy. To reclaim what had been lost.  
  
She stood, glancing around at the small home she’d made for herself on the coast of France. Her eyes swept over the furnishings of her makeshift office, taking note of the tools of her trade. Not that she’d need them for much longer.  
  
Uncaring as to the lateness of the hour, Willow stepped outside and meandered down to the water’s edge. The moon shone brightly against the waves. Their rhythmic slap against the sand soothed her, prepared her for what she must do.  
  
Since performing the spell on the Slayer’s scythe, she’d had a sense of… _something_. It had only seemed to grow in the aftermath of Buffy’s transformation and their dealings with the demons of the Draemuir dimension.  
  
And now the time had come.  
  
She stared out over the water, and if she looked hard enough, she could just make out Tara’s face, smiling in welcome.  
  
_Soon_.  
  
Resolve firming her stance, she turned and walked back up the beach towards her home. She had much to do. The first of which was booking the first flight out of Paris that would get her to Los Angeles. Things were moving quickly and she didn’t have a lot of time.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“You sick fuck!” Cordelia yelled at the young scientist. She could only stare in confusion and horror from her spot on the hospital floor as the man – Knox – calmly walked up to Dawn. No, _not_ Dawn, she firmly told herself. It was a thing. A demon. Something that had killed Buffy’s sister and taken over her body. Hollowed out her organs until only the shell of the girl remained.  
  
The blue she-god that had seemed to mock her dreams now had a face. Why hadn’t she been able to see what her subconscious, or whoever, had been trying to tell her?  
  
Now it was too late.  
  
And with Angel, Spike, and Giles seemingly halfway around the globe, there was nothing she, or any of the others of Angel’s group, could do to prevent Knox from taking the demon’s hand and spiriting them away.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Wes, we’ve got a problem…”  
  
Cordelia had run the entire way to the former watcher’s office, needing to tell someone of this latest development. She’d chosen Wesley because he’d be able to get in touch with Angel and the others – hopefully – and Gunn had been in the White Room since returning from Caritas, trying to get information from the senior partners.  
  
Wesley looked up from the tome he’d been reading to see Cordelia, flushed, a small trickle of blood leaking from the jagged cut on her forehead.  
  
“Cordy! What the hell happened?!”  
  
He jumped to his feet, hurrying around his desk to guide her to the couch situated along one of the walls of his office.  
  
“It’s Dawn… she’s… she’s dead, Wes,” she told him, plopping down wearily upon the leather seat. “And, I can’t find Buffy…” Her voice trailed off. She had a good idea what had happened to the Slayer – one couldn’t help but notice the trail of bodies that littered the hallway leading to the exit of the hospital Wolfram  & Hart ran, and she told him as much.  
  
“Oh dear god…”  
  
“Call… call Angel. We’re gonna need him.” She stopped suddenly, her face drawing into a fierce mask. “It was Knox. He was the one behind it. Behind everything.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel disconnected his phone, wanting nothing more than to hurl the small piece of metal across the small cabin. They’d been airborne not long after Spike had crumpled in his arms – his grief at Dawn’s loss, and Buffy’s anguish enough to reduce him to a near comatose state. He just prayed Spike would snap out of it by the time they reached Los Angeles; they were going to need all the help they could get in order to subdue Illyria.  
  
His gaze lighted on the watcher, and seeing his questioning gaze told him, “It was Knox. He had the sarcophagus delivered to Wolfram & Hart.”  
  
Giles nodded, saying nothing. There wasn’t anything he _could_ say.  
  
“Wes is researching ways to stop Illyria, but I have to tell you, I’m not sure if anything…” His voice trailed off. “I just don’t know what we can do to stop it, Giles. She’s a pure demon… like a god.”  
  
“A god, you say?”  
  
Angel just nodded.  
  
“Well, then… what you _need_ is Buffy.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Who was that, baby?”  
  
Faith stared at the handset, not really seeing it. Dawn was dead, and Buffy had taken a trip to the dark side. Now Willow needed her help.  
  
She pasted a smile on her lips and rolled over into the arms of her lover. Kissing him, hoping to distract him. She should have known better. Though he responded to her kiss eagerly enough, his arms settled on her shoulders, pulling back moments later to stare down at her face.  
  
“What is it, Faith?”  
  
Faith stared up at the man that had come to mean so much to her. It had been a lark when she’d initiated their sexual relationship that night in Sunnydale – something to drown herself in so that she didn’t have to think about the coming apocalypse, or that she, in all likelihood, wouldn’t walk away Scot free. She had. Robin almost hadn’t though. Many months had passed before he’d finally healed from his life-threatening injuries, Faith never leaving his side.  
  
Their feelings had grown from there, until she thought she might not live if he weren’t in her life. And it scared her. So much so, that she’d yet to tell him about the tiny life growing inside her womb. Worried that he’d take the high road and leave her alone and pregnant.  
  
And she couldn’t tell him now either, as much as she might want to.  
  
Because there would be no way in hell he’d let her go anywhere near Los Angeles. Do this thing for Willow. Hell, she didn’t want to go herself, but Buffy had done so much for her there at the end. For all of them. She couldn’t _not_ go.  
  
“I’ve got to go to Los Angeles. Buffy needs me.”  
  
Robin gazed down at the willful slayer that was his girlfriend.  
  
“That was her on the phone?”  
  
Faith shook her head.  
  
“No. Willow. She’s flying in from France. She called me from one of the phones on the airplane.”  
  
“I don’t—”  
  
“I gotta do this, Robin.”  
  
Robin’s eyebrows shot up. It was rare that Faith ever called him that, the much-used “Wood” the more common form of address, second only to “baby.” For something to invoke her using his first name, it had to be serious.  
  
He pulled away from her and sat up in bed, climbing from beneath the covers without a word. Faith watched him pull on some pants, tears starting to prick the back of her eyes at his continued silence.  
  
Robin turned around, seeing that she’d not moved.  
  
“I thought you said we had to go to LA? Get your lazy ass outta bed and get dressed.”  
  
Faith beamed a smile and launched herself at him. Haphazardly planting kisses on his face when he easily caught her.  
  
“I love you…”  
  
Robin stilled, unsure who was more surprised – him or her. He held her easily with one hand and used the other to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  
  
“I love you too, Faith.”  
  
He kissed her then, and just when she began to respond, he pulled back. Swatting her butt playfully, Robin told her to get dressed, that he’d see about booking them a flight tonight.  
  
She felt guilty for not telling him about the baby, an emotion she’d never thought to experience, and vowed that as soon as this situation with Buffy was resolved, she’d come clean. He’d either want her – kid and all – or not.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
She discarded the limp carcass of her latest meal and continued down the hallway on the way to the exit. The overwhelming stench of sickness was enough to make her stave off draining any of the other humans rushing to get out of her path… almost.  
  
Someone stepped to the open door farther down the hall and she smiled, fangs gleaming beneath the florescent light. He just stood there, unable to move and she swooped in for the kill, yanking his neck to the side and feasting greedily.  
  
Something told her that this was the first time that she’d enjoyed a meal from the source. The blood she sucked in her mouth was tinged with a little extra. Something she’d yet to taste before.  
  
Fear.  
  
It was intoxicating. Almost as good as Sire’s blood.  
  
She wondered briefly where he was, and why he wasn’t beside her. Reveling in the kill like she was.  
  
She froze mid-feast, ignoring the whimperings of the man she held. Her mouth was still latched onto his throat, but she was no longer sucking. No, something else had caught her attention. The distinct scent of…  
  
_Family_.  
  
Amber eyes sharpened to a point, staring fixatedly at the sliding doors in front of her. The half-dead human she held in her arms slipped from her grasp as two vampires stepped into view, activating the automated doors from the outside.  
  
The female was lovely – tall and lithe. Like a dancer. The other one – the male – was handsome in his own right, though not as droolworthy as her sire, her mate.  
  
She watched as the female drew closer, her step light, more like a gliding motion instead of a mere walk. But it was the eyes that held her entranced. Yellow eyes, not unlike her own, that promised all that she wanted.  
  
The hunt.  
  
The kill.  
  
Pitting her skill against others.  
  
The prize – glorious blood.  
  
“Come, dearie.”  
  
A hand lifted, urging her to take it. And she did.  
  
“My Spike is such a wicked boy. Such a pretty you are,” Drusilla cooed, petting the blonde’s hair. “Mmmm… now don’t growl, precious. It’s not polite to snap at your grandmum.”  
  
The blonde cocked her head at that, but tamped down her possessive growl.  
  
“Good girl. Now come join your family.”  
  
She allowed herself to be drawn out of the building and into the night. Thoughts of her sire and another dark-haired vampire pushed to the back of her mind.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel stared at the vamped form of his grandchilde and struggled not to reach out to him. He could see Spike’s agitation, his need to rush out into the city and find Buffy. They’d gone straight to the hospital once the jet had landed and had been shocked to find not only Dawn gone, but Buffy as well.  
  
The bodies of the dead had already been cleaned up when they arrived, the ward set to rights, and they’d only learned later, upon returning to Angel’s office having found no trace of Buffy anywhere within the confines of the hospital, what had happened to her.  
  
Now, they had not only a god-like demon to deal with, but a slayer running on vampire instincts alone.  
  
A commotion outside his office drew Angel’s attention and he turned his head towards the double doors just as they were flung open.  
  
Willow stood framed in the doorway, and he couldn’t help but gasp at her appearance. Her red hair was streaked with white, blue eyes now a deep onyx. But that was nothing compared to seeing Faith step in the room behind her, Robin Wood hot on her heels.  
  
Angel tensed upon seeing Faith’s expression, noting the worry she couldn’t hide as she kept darting glances at Willow. His brows drew together on catching a second, tiny, much more rapid heartbeat, his gaze flickering back and forth between Willow and Faith. Seeing Faith’s face suddenly pale at his discovery, and how she shot an anxious look towards Wood, who stood behind her, he was able to determine who the pregnant one was, and that she’d yet to say anything to anyone.  
  
His expression softened, and Angel gave her a barely perceptible nod.  
  
He’d not be the one to spill the beans about that development.  
  
He did, however, want to know why she was there and with Willow, who was looking slightly more “witchy” than the last time he’d seen her.  
  
“Hey, Willow… Faith… Wood.” Angel nodded at Nikki Wood’s son, the only offspring of a slayer that he knew about, and from the anxious looks Faith kept sending his way, soon to be the father of the second. “What brings you back to Los Angeles?”  
  
Willow’s eyes swept around the room, taking in the occupants staring at her with a mixture of awe and confusion. She started briefly at seeing Cordelia back among the living. The last she’d heard, the former Sunnydale High alum had been in a coma, thanks to some Power That… Was. Out of the corner of her eye, Willow caught Angel following her stare, noting the way he tensed when she took a few extra moments to contemplate Cordelia’s return. Seeing also the expression on Cordelia’s face when she looked up from her book and saw Angel staring at her.  
  
“Angel. We need to talk, and I don’t have a lot of time,” Willow announced abruptly, tearing her eyes away from Cordelia and staring pointedly at Angel.  
  
Even as the words came out, she could feel even more of her hair go white, struggling as she was to contain the energy pulsing within her slight frame.  
  
“Willow…what—?”  
  
“Can we… talk… _privately_?”  
  
“Uh, yeah… sure. Follow me.”  
  
He led Willow to his private elevator and up to his suite, mindless to the curious looks of his crew.  
  
“What’s this about?” he asked once the doors slid open and he stepped out into his living room.  
  
“Buffy… and Illyria.”  
  
“How did—?”  
  
“I’ll tell you… but first I need to do this.”  
  
Willow walked up to him and laid the palm of her hand right over his heart. It glowed a brilliant white, and an answering light was reflected in the vampire’s eyes. His head flew back, his arms stretched wide as Angel was subjected to Willow’s machinations, her power. It was over almost as quickly as it had begun, and she released him, stepping back slightly.  
  
Angel was breathing heavily, his body still seeming to vibrate, swaying slightly in the aftermath.  
  
“What—?”  
  
“Something that I should have done a long time ago. But, well, I’d spoken with Fred about this Shanshu thing, and I wanted to see if it would happen for you. I’m sorry, Angel, but…”  
  
“It’s not meant for me,” he finished for her.  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
“Cordelia. She told me it just wasn’t in the cards.”  
  
Willow laid a hand on Angel’s arm.  
  
“I really am sorry. But… in time… you’ll see. Now, as for what I did… I’ve bound your soul to you.”  
  
“You…”  
  
“It was a stupid curse, Angel. Either you have a soul or you don’t. The last thing any of us needs right now is to have to worry about the return of Angelus. Things are going to happen… and… they’re going to need you. Cordelia… Buffy… Spike. And, if you can’t have your Shanshu, at least you can have your happiness back.”  
  
“I don’t know what to say.”  
  
“You don’t have to say anything. Truthfully? I didn’t do it for you, so much as I did it for her. For Buffy. This… what’s happened… it’s not going to be easy for her.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Willow nodded. “Now, for the reason Faith and I are here…”


	11. Chapter 11

Angel stared aghast at Willow.  
  
“You can’t mean to—”  
  
Willow looked up at the conflicted vampire, and smiled softly, resigned to her fate.  
  
“I’ve known since performing the spell that I’ve been living on borrowed time. I just wasn’t sure what exactly I was waiting for. With Buffy…” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “Well, now I know. She’s the one that pulled the scythe from the rock, imbuing it with her essence. Her slayer essence. When I performed the spell, I sent it out into all those girls.”  
  
“But, I saw her… those first few days. She… seemed to sense them.”  
  
“That was Buffy. She needs that slayer piece pushed back into her, to give her back her balance. And only I can do that.”  
  
“You’ll die.”  
  
The corner of the witch’s mouth turned upwards.  
  
“I’m already dead, Angel. I was, the moment I did the spell.” Her head hung, shame at why she’d been so reluctant to perform the spell in the first place pervading every fiber of her being. “It was why I didn’t want to do it.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and it was only his vampiric hearing that enabled him to pick up on her confession. “I…I almost… told her.”  
  
“Why didn’t you?”  
  
“I’d helped to kick her out of her home, Angel. Right before the battle. Me, Dawnie, Xander… Giles. That’s what sent her in there alone. Afterwards, I... I was so… _ashamed_. When she returned with the weapon, and Spike. I’d failed her as a friend. She was the Slayer and I, I doubted that we could win, and… I backed Faith. We _all_ did…”  
  
“It’s all right… she knew…” Angel pulled the crying girl against his side, awkwardly patting her shoulder when she laid her head against his chest. “She never held it against you guys.”  
  
“I saw Spike… later,” she went on, oblivious to his reassurances. “He had that thing around his neck. He was so… _elated_. Elated that Buffy thought he was a champion. Even with death shining in his eyes, he was just so damn grateful that she trusted him. That she’d seen his potential. Something all of us either couldn’t or wouldn’t acknowledge. I couldn’t _not_ do it, even after the coven told me what it would cost me. I couldn’t fail Buffy again.”  
  
“Nobody knew?”  
  
“No. Not even Giles. I told the coven, the only way I’d do it is if the others didn’t know. I didn’t want them to feel guilty. I didn’t want _Buffy_ to feel guilty for having suggested it in the first place.”  
  
“They’re still going to feel guilty. Buffy especially.”  
  
“Not if you don’t tell them. And, Buffy…” She didn’t say that the Slayer would know. Would find out the instant she touched the scythe.  
  
“Willow…”  
  
“Hey… last wish and all that.” She tried to smile, to lighten the mood.  
  
“They’re gonna know. Giles. Faith. I think she already suspects.”  
  
“It’s because she’s a slayer. It’s hard not to recognize the power flowing through me. And let’s not forget the hair.” She fingered a strand and stood up, putting an end to her trip down memory lane. “I need the scythe. I’ll do what needs to be done, then you give it to Faith. She just needs to put it in Buffy’s hand… it’ll do all the work. With Buffy back… her balance restored… it should be an easy matter of seeing to your other problem.”  
  
Angel nodded and stood as well. He let himself out of his apartment and walked down the hallway towards the room Buffy and Spike were using to retrieve the scythe.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Willow was busy preparing a spot on Angel’s floor for the coming spell and so didn’t hear the elevator doors that led directly into Angel’s suite open.  
  
“You were just going to do this without saying goodbye?”  
  
Willow jumped and looked guiltily over her shoulder at Faith, mentally cringing at the fierce look on the girl’s face.  
  
“I didn’t… Angel would have…”  
  
“You’re some piece of work, girl.”  
  
Faith stomped over to the witch, crowding her personal space. She jabbed a finger in the girl’s chest telling her, “You can’t just call me out of the blue in the middle of the night, ask for my help, and then run off to do your thing all alone.”  
  
“Faith…”  
  
“Don’t you ‘ _Faith_ ’ me.”  
  
“You can’t make me change my mind,” Willow told Faith firmly. She made to turn away and finish her preparations, but her arm was caught, the grip firm, but not overly tight.  
  
“I know. But, you don’t have to do it alone either.”  
  
Willow was shocked by the tears in the girl’s eyes. Tears that were quickly wiped away by the back of her hand.  
  
“Sorry… hormones and whatnot,” Faith explained hastily.  
  
Willow stared at the girl, using the technique taught to her by Tara about reading another’s aura. She let out an audible gasp, unable to stop the smile that lit up her face.  
  
“You’re pregnant!”  
  
“ _Shhh_! I don’t think the demons in the basement heard you.”  
  
“Oh!” Willow clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry?” But, her eyes belied her merriment.  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s a secret between you and me… oh, and Angel. Damn vamp guessed right off the bat. Forgot about those enhanced senses when I said I’d come with you.”  
  
“Robin’s?”  
  
Faith nodded.  
  
“Does he know?”  
  
“Not yet. I was gonna tell him, but then you called. And if he knew, there was no way he would have let me come, no matter how much I needed to be here.”  
  
Willow smiled her understanding. “Can I?” She lifted her hand as if to touch the Slayer’s stomach.  
  
Faith spread her arms wide. The area seemed to glow where the witch laid her palm against her stomach; it felt like butterflies swirling around inside. She stood there unmoving for the longest time, enough for Faith to ask, “Is everything ok?”  
  
“Five by five, Faith.”  
  
Willow winked at Faith, smiling as she finally removed her hand, and Faith couldn’t help but smile back.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. Things’ll be just fine, Faith. Now, go open the door and tell Angel he can come back in. Idiot’s been standing outside for a while now, and I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer.”  
  
“Is there anything you need me to do?” she asked once she’d let the vampire back into his own apartment.  
  
“Not really, no. Just hold the scythe while I prepare everything. Then hand it to me once I step inside the circle, okay?” She turned and looked at Angel. “Angel?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Break the hold Wolfram  & Hart has over you,” she told him without preamble.  
  
“What? How did you—?”  
  
“Powerful witch here. And I met him, remember? Or maybe you don’t. You were running around soul-free at the time. But, the magicks your law firm used to make the others forget wasn’t strong enough to do the same to me.”  
  
“I did it to give him a new life,” he explained. “Away from me. I wanted him to be happy.”  
  
“And he’ll realize the sacrifice you made. Angel, he wouldn’t want it at the cost of your friends’ memories… good _or_ bad,” she told him gently. “By taking your son from you, Wolfram  & Hart has won. Tell your son and break their hold.”  
  
“But Connor…” _He’ll hate me like before._  
  
“Spike can help you with that,” Willow told him, sensing his turmoil.  
  
“Spike? How?”  
  
“Who _else_ has put up with you for so long? Hated you with the same intensity? Spike will bring the boy around. Please, Angel. I don’t want to know that this is all going to be in vain.”  
  
“Yeah… okay.”  
  
“Good. Now, let me get this done. You’ve got a slayer to bring home and a baddie to stop.”  
  
Willow stepped into the center of the circle she’d made and sat down.  
  
“Faith, bring me the scythe. Don’t step on the circle.”  
  
Faith nodded and handed over the weapon she held in her hand. She didn’t release it, not at first, forcing the witch to look up at her – onyx pools staring hard at the Slayer.  
  
“Thank you… for everything. And I’m sorry, for being such a bitch before. It was just…”  
  
“I know, Faith. But you’ll have that now. You and Robin. Your baby. And there’ll be others. You’re not alone anymore. You have friends and a family now…”  
  
Faith didn’t bother to hide the tears that fell as she released the scythe into Willow’s hand and stepped back. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder and unconsciously leaned back against Angel who had stepped up silently behind her. Lifting her head, she saw that his own expression hinted at the sorrow he felt.  
  
Together they watched as Willow began to chant softly. The air became suddenly charged, then it was as if all the energy that gave Willow life seemed to erupt from her body in a blinding ray of white and resettle into the scythe. It glowed brightly absorbing the girl’s essence before returning to its normal shade of red. With the spell complete, Willow’s body tumbled sideways, the scythe falling from deathly-still fingers.  
  
Faith rushed to the girl’s side, taking note of Willow’s changed hair color, how it was back to her natural red. She gathered Willow close, crying for the girl forever lost to them.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The elevator door opened abruptly and Spike, Giles, Robin, and the rest of Angel’s gang spilled out into the room.  
  
Seeing Angel carrying Willow’s lifeless body towards his bedroom, Giles gasped, “What the bloody hell happened?”  
  
Spike laid a hand on Giles’ shoulder, sensing Angel’s distress. He silently shook his head.  
  
“Faith!” Robin brushed past the others and went over to where his girlfriend sat weeping on the couch. “Faith? What happened, baby?”  
  
“She’s gone,” she blubbered, and collapsed into his arms, barely managing to not slice his arm since she’d yet to relinquish her hold on the scythe Angel had given her so that he could see to Willow.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Giles’ eyes were unnaturally moist after Angel got finished telling them what had occurred.  
  
“It’s my fault. I encouraged her to do it. I’m the one that told her she could handle it.”  
  
“No, Giles.” Angel shook his head, not willing to let the Englishman wallow in his grief. “Willow was adamant that you, that _none_ of you, feel that way. If it’s any consolation… she… Tara. She whispered the name Tara, right before… you know.”  
  
“Glinda…” Spike explained to Angel. “She was Red’s girlfriend way back when. Seems only right.”  
  
The others nodded.  
  
Faith managed to rouse herself from Robin’s arms and stand. “Come on, people. We’ve got work to do. Spike, Angel… let’s go find Buffy.”  
  
“Might wanna bring, Wood, luv. Be nice to have an extra set of hands that know their way around a stake.” He smirked at Wood, causing the other to quirk his brow.  
  
“Yeah, alright… I’m in.”  
  
Faith made to protest, but Spike just stared at her.  
  
‘ _Asshole_ ,’ she mouthed. Vamp hearing should be outlawed. It was only that he’d heard what Angel had that Spike had invited her boyfriend along. She’d have to make a point of getting him alone later to tell him what she thought of his interference.  
  
“Faith’s right,” Angel told the others. “We’ll get Buffy. While we’re gone, I want all of you to get your stuff and meet me at the Hyperion.”  
  
“But… Angel…”  
  
“No buts, Wes. We’re leaving Wolfram & Hart. Gather your things and…” He pulled a set of keys out of his pants’ pocket and tossed them to Wesley. “… move in. It’s time we got outta here.”  
  
“Hell _yeah_ ,” Gunn cheered, already loosening his tie.  
  
Wesley started sputtering, but Angel cut him off. “Trust me, Wes. We don’t need what Wolfram & Hart has to offer.”  
  
“Alright…” Wesley pocketed the keys to Angel’s hotel and left with the others.  
  
“Giles… Cordelia, can you manage with Willow? I could give you the extension to the ‘Clean-up Crew’ but…”  
  
“No. We can manage. We’ll get her to the Hyperion. I think Buffy should have a say in where Willow’s final resting place should be.”  
  
“Slayer will probably agree with me… but… we should take her home, Rupert.”  
  
“Then as my last act as C.E.O. of Wolfram & Hart, I’ll get the paperwork squared away for her passage out of the country. Speaking of, we need to make a detour by the office. Are you guys ready?”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Even though he was still reeling from the Bit’s death and Buffy’s reversion to pure vampire, and who was doubtlessly sleeping the day away after a night spent bathing in blood, Spike couldn’t help but chuckle at Angel’s “fuck you” to the senior partners.  
  
He’d spent a few minutes seeing to Red’s transportation to the airport and a flight out of the country, coordinating with a local funeral home for an appropriate casket. Once finished, he’d grabbed a few weapons from where they hung behind his desk.  
  
“Oh, almost forgot,” he’d tossed out as he made to walk in front of his desk. He’d passed off his weapons to Spike, leaving Spike rolling his eyes at wasting even more time.  
  
Spike had watched as Angel calmly retrieved a blank piece of paper from the top draw of his desk and a pen used especially for signing contracts. He could do nothing but stare as Angel placed the back of his hand on the surface of the desk and brought the pen down, driving the point into his palm. He’d scrawled something on the paper, and Spike’s brows had drawn together at seeing Angel smirk.  
  
“Think they’ll get the message,” he’d asked Spike, holding up the piece of paper to show him what it said.  
  
_I quit._  
  
And it was signed simply, _Angelus_.  
  
He’d come around from the back of the desk then, and Spike had clapped him on the back.  
  
“Yeah,” Spike had said. “I rightly think they will. Nice touch with the blood there.”  
  
“Just wanted to make sure they knew I was serious. Now, come on. Let’s go find your mate.”  
  
They’d left a shocked Harmony shouting after them as the four had hurried down the stairs.


	12. Chapter 12

Spike wasn’t sure what possessed him to invite Faith’s boy toy along. Hell, the last time he’d seen Robin Wood for any length of time, he’d beaten the shit out of him – would have eaten him too, but didn’t want to give Rupert any leverage against him. He’d since buried the hatchet with the Watcher; seemed only right for him to do the same with the other. Besides, having the human along could prove useful. Especially since they still had several hours until nightfall.  
  
And if he partook of a little harmless ribbing, well, he’d blame that on the fact that he was still evil… _technically_.  
  
“Don’t you think the boys upstairs are going to object to us nicking one of their rides?”  
  
Spike’s eyebrows rose upon seeing his sire’s evil leer. Almost like he was happy…  
  
“Angelus?” he questioned softly, though prayed his suspicions were unfounded.  
  
When the elder vampire didn’t object to the moniker, Spike got worried.  
  
“It’s alright, Will. I’m still me.”  
  
“Then what’s with all the bloody smiles, it’s starting to really wig me out. Gotten used to you being the broody one in the bunch.”  
  
“Mind your tongue, boy.” There was no malice behind the low growl, which just confused Spike all the more. He darted a quick glance towards the two occupants in the front seats, but neither Faith nor Wood were paying attention to their idle chatter, intent on their surroundings, searching for anything that might tip their hand towards Buffy’s whereabouts.  
  
“Willow bound my soul.”  
  
The words were spoken quietly, so quietly, in fact, that Spike almost didn’t hear them. His gaze zeroed in on his sire’s, seeing the truth in his eyes – the chocolate brown bore no hint of the maniacal light that had been Angelus.  
  
“How?”  
  
“I don’t know. She just _touched_ me.”  
  
“Well, Red’s been doin’ all right with the mojo. Still think we might have to test that theory though.”  
  
At Angel’s incredulous look, Spike frowned.  
  
“With the cheerleader, ya poof! Or, don’t you think the girl that’s been makin’ moon eyes at you these past few days could give you a happy?”  
  
“Cordelia? Making moon eyes?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. You’ve still got it. I swear, sometimes I think the soul’s affected your sense of smell.”  
  
“What are you doing smelling Cordelia’s…?” Angel struggled to find the right word.  
  
“Arousal?” Spike offered helpfully, and grinned unrepentantly at his sire. “Please! Hell, even without the…” Spike pointed to his nose. “… you could tell the bird has it bad for you. Don’t you know her M.O.? Girl blows through your dosh faster than you can give it to her. Didn’t you see the look on her face at the thought of going back to the Hyperion?”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“Don’t be surprised if the little woman reveals her nesting instinct, is all I’m sayin’.”  
  
Angel thought about that for a minute, finally leaning back in his seat, a smile once more transforming his features.  
  
“Oi! Stop that!”  
  
“Stop what?” Angel’s grin said he knew quite well what Spike was referring to.  
  
“That!”  
  
Angel laughed outright, causing Faith to swivel in her seat and look enquiringly at the two vampires in the back, protected by the treated glass on the SUV they’d liberated from the law firm.  
  
“Angel, you alright?” she asked.  
  
“No! He’s not. Make him stop,” Spike complained.  
  
Faith arched a brow.  
  
“Wanker’s got his soul anchored thanks to Red, and now he thinks he’s bloody Jack Dee. It ain’t natural, I tell ya.”  
  
“Jack who?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind.”  
  
Faith’s attention returned to Angel, brows furrowing at his continued joviality.  
  
“Spike’s right. Quit smiling, Angel. It’s scary.”  
  
But she was smiling when she said it.  
  
“I don’t think we’re gonna have much luck finding Buffy until the sun sets,” Robin broke into the three’s humor. “Police scanner’s not giving us anything. Whatever happened last night… well, she’s probably long gone from here by now.”  
  
Much as Angel hated to admit it, the man was right. Better for them to return to the Hyperion and set up shop, maybe catch a few hours’ sleep. By all accounts they were going to need it.  
  
“Make a right at the light,” Angel told him. He could see Spike ready to argue with his decision and shook his head. “He’s right. Without your link to Buffy, we’re flying blind. Besides, she’s probably sleeping right now. We should be doing the same.”  
  
Spike didn’t like it, but he voiced no arguments as Robin followed Angel’s directions to the hotel. The four had charged out of Wolfram  & Hart in search of Buffy, three of them knowing that it would be almost impossible to find her without more hands-on effort by the two vampires in the back seat. But they’d needed to do something, anything not to dwell on the triple whammy they’d been delivered: Dawn’s death, Buffy’s disappearance, and Willow’s sacrifice to make things right.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Robin got as close to the hotel entrance as possible so that Spike and Angel could leap out of the SUV and race towards the entrance without getting too singed. They burst through the front doors, their emergence into the lobby barely causing a blip on the screen for the small group milling about.  
  
It was organized chaos as Cordelia oversaw the return of Angel Investigations.  
  
She finally looked up and noticed Angel and Spike standing just inside the front doors, her drill-sergeant like expression transforming into one of quiet understanding at seeing Buffy absent from their side.  
  
“ _No luck_?” she mouthed.  
  
Angel just shook his head as he walked over and leaned against the counter.  
  
“Spike and I are going to get a few hours’ sleep. We’ll head out at dusk to try and track her down.”  
  
“All right. Things are moving along here. By the time you wake up, I should have a fresh supply of blood for you both, as well as radios and computers online.” Seeing Angel’s astonished expression, she added, “What? You said to pack up. Don’t think the senior partners are going to miss the stuff we swiped. It was just collecting dust in a storage closet.”  
  
Angel couldn’t help it; he wrapped his hand around the back of Cordelia’s neck and kissed her hard and fast, leaving her wide-eyed and unsure what to do with her hands.  
  
Truthfully, she was pretty sure what to do with them, but they had an audience. And as good as Angel’s lips felt on hers – _finally_ – how his tongue took advantage of her slight gasp and slid inside her mouth, she didn’t fancy giving the others a show. At least not more than they were currently witnessing.  
  
When Spike’s voice interrupted them, Cordelia didn’t know whether to thank the vamp or hit him. She settled on giving him an evil glare to which he appeared oblivious, and she huffed and turned away from the pair, shooing the others off to work.  
  
“Cordy?” Angel called out from halfway up the stairs. “Have Lorne get in touch with the Transuding Furies. Have them do a sanctuary spell on the Hyperion.”  
  
“I’m on it!” Cordelia replied. Turned away and yelled, “ _Lorne_!”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Come in, Will.”  
  
Spike hesitated outside Angel’s bedroom door. Finally, reluctantly, he opened it and stepped inside.  
  
“Can’t sleep?” Angel asked, taking note of Spike’s disheveled hair.  
  
“I…” Spike’s fingers found his hair again, running a shaky hand through it, disrupting the curls even more. “I’m disturbing you. I’ll let you get some sleep.”  
  
Spike moved to escape Angel’s room, not even sure what had possessed him to come in the first place. He forgot, however, how fast Angel could be – his palm flat against the door, keeping it shut, and Spike locked within.  
  
“Go lay down, Will,” Angel told him, shoving him in the direction of the bed when Spike just stood there. He followed behind, watching as Spike pulled off his boots and climbed on top of the covers, his duster having already been shed.  
  
Angel didn’t give himself time to think what he was doing, quickly joining Spike on the bed.  
  
“You don’t have to—”  
  
“Spike, just shut up and go to sleep. Wasn’t able to sleep anyway with all the tossing and turning you were doing next door.”  
  
Spike lay on his side, facing away from Angel. Hiding the slight smile that twisted his lips.  
  
“Doesn’t mean I like you,” Spike mumbled, already half asleep, lulled by the scent of family – even if it wasn’t Buffy by his side.  
  
“Never thought you did, Childe,” Angel answered softly. He closed his eyes, and soon followed Spike.  
  
When Angel woke, later in the afternoon, he was alone.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
She’d drifted to sleep thoroughly gorged on the blood of innocents, her body nearly vibrating from the thrill of the hunt. The exhilarating chase and eventual kill. Only following the other two vampires into a temporary shelter of sorts – a townhome they’d gained entrance to, thanks to a handy little invite – when the sun threatened. After killing off the remaining family members, she’d fallen, exhausted, into the nearest bed, the vampire, Drusilla, cooing beside her, murmuring words of praise, lulling her to sleep.  
  
Now, a cool hand was gliding up her leg, exposing her pale skin as the edge of her dress – recently acquired after a late night unpaid shopping excursion – was pushed up towards her waist. She moaned happily thinking it her sire, rolling to her back; but when she opened her eyes and encountered the other vampire, Sam, her hand latched onto his throat and she threw him off her. He crashed into a wall, upsetting the trinkets lining one of the dressers so that they crashed to the hardwood floor.  
  
The noise woke a sleeping Drusilla who took in the scene and began to giggle.  
  
“Aww, did Daddy’s boy want to play?” she cooed, running a slim hand down the blonde’s arm. “It’s alright, lovey. Sam can make you feel _real_ good. I know.”  
  
Buffy growled and snapped at Drusilla, climbing from the bed and evading the female’s touch.  
  
“I belong to my sire,” she declared. “No one else has the right to touch me.”  
  
“Someone needs to teach the bitch some manners,” Sam growled, gaining his feet and glaring at Buffy who was eyeing him warily. He turned and pinned the woman reclining on the bed with a look. “I thought you said we were going to hurt Angel?” he complained. “What better way than to take his latest toy?”  
  
Buffy growled.  
  
“You can try, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Buffy told him. “You might not walk away with your dick still attached.”  
  
“Bitch!”  
  
He moved to attack and Buffy fell into an easy defensive position.  
  
Drusilla knelt upon the mattress clapping her hands. The two squaring off to fight one another wasn’t what she’d envisioned when she’d left Las Vegas behind. She’d only been aware of the blonde’s reappearance here, that she was family. When she’d felt the girl’s desire to hunt and kill rush over her, she’d wanted only to mold her, bring her into the fold. Stealing the girl away from her sire and childe would repay them both for abandoning her. With the former Slayer and her Daddy’s other childe, she could start a new family.  
  
Now with their fists and fangs poised and ready to attack, a new plot was taking shape. If they killed each other, she could have both her Daddy and her Spike all to herself. Such a naughty thought to be sure, but then, Spike had always called her his Ripe _Wicked_ Plum. She licked her lips and settled in to watch the two go at each other.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike had been sitting with the others out in the lobby, a mug of blood in his hand while he waited for his sire to make an appearance downstairs. They still had about an hour before sunset; so, even though he was antsy to be on the town looking for his mate, it wouldn’t really do him any good.  
  
Which was why he was downstairs taking out his frustrations on the others. His target right now: Nikki Wood’s son. Though from the looks he was getting from Faith, his fun was about to come to an end. The girl looked ready to throttle him.  
  
She’d even stood up and started in his direction.  
  
He just reclined back against the cushion, smirking, before he took a gulp of his blood.  
  
And promptly spat it out, causing both Faith and Cordelia to nearly gag as the crimson fluid went flying out of his mouth.  
  
“Ewww… Spike!” Cordelia shouted. “That’s disgusting!”  
  
Spike wasn’t paying any attention to her, however. He’d been given a brief glimpse of Buffy, felt her defiance and fear through the claim before he was abruptly shut out again. Surging to his feet, he bellowed for Angel, pleased to see him rush out of his room and down the winding staircase.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Buffy. I felt her… just for a second. She’s in trouble. We’ve got to go… _Now_!”  
  
Angel turned towards Faith, but she was already turning away to retrieve the scythe, not needing to be told.  
  
“I’ll bring the Suburban around,” Robin volunteered and hurried out of the hotel.  
  
“Did you get a feel for where she is?” Angel asked Spike, laying a hand on the younger vamp’s shoulder.  
  
“I don’t…” Spike began. “The beach… maybe?”  
  
“That’s a lot of territory to cover,” Angel replied.  
  
“Perhaps a locator spell?” Giles interjected. “It should be simple enough to perform. Wesley and I can work on it and call you with any results. We’ll just need something of Buffy’s.”  
  
Spike reluctantly reached into his duster pocket and pulled out a battered photo of his Slayer.  
  
“Will this work?” he asked of the watcher. He hated to part with it; he’d carried the photo for so long, it was like a part of him. Spike hadn’t questioned his good fortune when he’d realized that the picture had survived his dusting unscathed, much like the rest of the clothes he’d worn to meet his end in the Hellmouth. He’d nicked it on a lark just before they’d departed Revello Drive for the final time.  
  
Spike had spent many an hour staring at the Slayer’s face in the days following his reappearance in Angel’s office.  
  
“That should be fine,” Giles replied, taking the photograph of Buffy from Spike’s hand. “Now go. I’ll call you the second I know something. And, Spike…? Bring her back safely.”  
  
Spike nodded and turned away.  
  
“Cordelia? I’m going to need a map. The more detailed, the better.”  
  
“On it!” Cordelia shouted, and was almost out of the room before she thought of something. “Lorne, give Angel your cell phone!”  
  
Angel took the offered phone and started towards the door. Spike and Faith were hot on his heels.  
  
Giles watched the three rush from the hotel and sent up a silent prayer that they’d be able to find Buffy in time.  
  
“Wes, you’ve got the necessary spell book, I trust?”  
  
“Yes. We can use my office.”  
  
“Good. Then let’s get started. Spike seems to think we don’t have a lot of time, and I’ve come to trust his instincts.”


	13. Chapter 13

The phone rang and Angel snapped it up before it could sound again.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Angel listened as Giles relayed the Slayer’s whereabouts, telling him to hurry because it looked like she was on the move. He rung off with the watcher and urged Robin to put his foot on the gas.  
  
The foursome had resumed the same seats as before. Neither vampire wanted to have to worry about parking the SUV if they happened to spot Buffy. Easier for them just to throw open their respective doors and jump out.  
  
Spike’s guess had been on the money. The Slayer wasn’t far from the beach. Just off Fifth Street, as a matter of fact.  
  
“We’ll be there in five minutes,” Angel informed Spike.  
  
Spike nodded, eyes intent on the scenery as it passed in a blur. All the while hoping he’d make it there in time.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike saw a flash of a blonde-haired woman garbed in a formfitting red dress race around the corner; he didn’t bother to tell Robin to stop the SUV and let him out since it would take too much time, and honestly, he didn’t think he could get the words out at the fear of seeing her being chased by another male.  
  
Throwing open the door with a roar as his demon burst forth, he jumped from the moving vehicle before anyone could react, rolling on the street for a bit before he could right himself and take off in Buffy’s direction.  
  
He didn’t hear the squeal of tires as Robin ground the SUV to a halt when his sire leapt out of the vehicle after him. Didn’t hear Faith curse and chase after the pair, scythe in hand. No, his focus was solely on his slayer and her pursuer. And the faint trace of her blood he could smell on the air.  
  
Tearing around the corner, he poured on a burst of speed when he saw Buffy stumble in the distance, inadvertently allowing the other vampire to close in on her. His rage was close to the surface; eyes narrowed intently on the male that thought to do harm to his mate.  
  
Spike shoved the thought aside for now _and_ the one that had his heart in his throat – that Buffy was either too weak to defend herself, or the vampire was too strong.  
  
It wouldn’t do for him to make a mistake because he couldn’t control his emotions.  
  
When Buffy veered left suddenly, seeking to escape through the park, Spike cut a diagonal path and managed to plow into the vampire chasing her, sending them both into the ground. Spike rolled easily and vaulted to his feet, not surprised in the least when his opponent did the same, having sensed that this was no mere fledgling chasing after his girl.  
  
He was all set to attack the vampire with fist and fangs when he felt the presence of his sire. Only it wasn’t Angel – though he wasn’t too far behind – but Drusilla. He froze, watching warily as she emerged from behind the trees.  
  
“Hello, my Spike.”  
  
Demonic features faded away, and Spike’s blue gaze darted warily between the two.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Hidden among the trees, she stopped suddenly, sensing the lack of pursuit by the male vampire. She wasn’t quite sure what had prevented him from coming after her, but she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
Smiling widely, now that she was free, her thoughts turned to a quick meal – followed by more… _leisurely_ ones. The sounds of the city beckoned in the distance, and she made her way along the dirt path away from the quiet neighborhood and the two vampires with whom she’d spent the previous evening.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel raced into the park and came to an abrupt halt. His eyes widened in astonishment upon noticing his childer. Spike and Sam stood several feet apart, their fight obviously interrupted by the appearance of Drusilla.  
  
“Daddy!” Drusilla squealed, clapping her hands together in maniacal glee. She danced over towards Sam, who stood eyeing Spike and Angel warily; pale limbs gleamed in the moonlight, her movements a seductive sway that held the two ensouled vampires ensnared and unable to start after her. Her fingers played with Sam’s hair, much to the male’s annoyance – though he stood docilely enough. She ignored both her sire and her childe as her fingers roamed over his face.  
  
“Such a pretty boy,” she cooed, speaking loud enough for both Spike and Angel to hear her. “Bad daddy… not telling me.”  
  
As Drusilla had gotten closer to Sam, Spike had backed up a few paces, wary of the mercurial moods of his sire.  
  
“Dru…” Angel warned.  
  
In the blink of an eye, her childlike manner disappeared, and her demon burst forth – hissing when Faith emerged into the clearing. She eyed the scythe held in her hand. Visions assaulted her, and her fingers rubbed at her temples while she swayed from side to side.  
  
“No… no… no…” she moaned. “You can’t have her. I won’t let you.”  
  
The suddenness of Drusilla’s attack startled the trio, and she had Faith pinned to the ground before either Spike or Angel could react.  
  
Robin’s bellow of rage spurred them into action.  
  
He raced towards the two women, his stake at the ready…  
  
Only Angel beat him to it. He flung his childe off Faith and helped her to her feet. When the girl made to stay and fight, he pushed her in the direction Buffy had taken.  
  
“Get to Buffy. Hurry!”  
  
Sam tried to disappear in the confusion, to go after the bitch that thought she could tell him no, but his escape route was cut off by the blond.  
  
Spike was there, blocking his retreat – smiling evilly.  
  
“Going somewhere, mate?” Spike asked, circling his opponent slowly and drawing him back into the park and away from the path through the woods Buffy had taken.  
  
“What’s it to you?”  
  
Not one to be cowed, Sam moved right along with the other vampire, unwilling to let his back become exposed. After being sired by Angel, he’d been cast out, and had had to grow up fast – it made for the strong vampire he’d become. So while he could tell that the blond standing before him was older in years, experience-wise, Sam knew he would be able to take him.  
  
What he didn’t realize was that Spike had suffered much the same fate, though inadvertently. Angel had left him upon getting his soul. And though Drusilla had been with him in the century since, it was Spike who had been calling the shots, Drusilla not having the mental capabilities after losing both her sire and grandsire. Not that she’d ever really had them to begin with.  
  
“What’s it to me?” Spike’s tone was conversational and he paused, pretending to think over the matter. It lasted but a second before it turned deadly. Icy blue eyes regarded the vampire before him.  
  
Sam watched him warily, not failing to notice the other’s menace. The way his body was coiled and ready to strike and was just waiting for the slightest provocation.  
  
“You dared to attack my mate.” Spike jumped forward and slammed his fist into the vampire’s nose. “And I mean to be addressin’ that issue.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Faith rounded a bend in the path and caught a glimpse of red up ahead of her. She poured on a burst of speed to close the distance between herself and Buffy, grateful that she appeared in no hurry. Grateful, too, that her boyfriend was not possessing of slayer strength, and was left far behind – she didn’t want him anywhere near the volatile Buffy.  
  
She knew when Buffy finally sensed her, like her vampire early slayer warning system seemed to sound in her head. Her body stiffened and she whirled around, fangs and ridges prominent as she prepared to do battle with the killer of her kind.  
  
Faith watched her eyes widen upon seeing the weapon she held.  
  
“That’s some _stake_ you got there.”  
  
“Bit harder to hide,” Faith deadpanned, taking a cautious few steps closer. “But I think the pluses far outweigh the minuses, don’t you agree?”  
  
She twirled the scythe and relaxed into a defensive crouch, watching as Buffy snorted at her quip before her eyes narrowed with deadly intent. Unconsciously, Faith’s body stiffened in anticipation of the other’s attack.  
  
‘ _She just has to touch it_ ,’ Faith reminded herself.  
  
Buffy launched herself at Faith, fangs barred, and it took all Faith had not to swing her weapon in a deadly arc and sever Buffy’s head from her shoulders. Her slayer survival instincts had kicked in. Not to mention her motherly ones.  
  
At the last second, Faith twisted to the side and allowed the forward momentum of the other to propel her forward several feet. Faith swiveled her body and brought the scythe up defensively in front of her. Her heart was pounding; the adrenaline racing through her veins resounded in her ears, blocking out all other noises.  
  
Except for the blonde’s angry growl.  
  
Again Faith watched Buffy race towards her, arms outstretched. The scythe came up in front of her, seemingly of its own accord, her arms blindly obeying the signals from her brain; her attention was on Buffy running full tilt towards her.  
  
The impact sent both women to the ground, Buffy sprawled on top of her.  
  
One hand wrapped around the red scythe.  
  
Though it was deathly quiet, Faith could have sworn there was a booming clap of thunder as the slayer weapon erupted with light.  
  
Buffy’s head was thrown back as the force of the magic consumed her. Her demon faded away, and her eyes stood open and fixed on nothing – her body glowing white in the darkness of the woods.  
  
Faith felt tears form in her eyes as the image of Willow suddenly appeared, and then another. Her hand lifted, trying to reach out and touch the witch. Her tears fell over onto her cheeks when the girl paused and looked down at her, then skimmed her ghostly fingers along her own.  
  
It was over as quickly as it had begun, but Faith knew that the moment would stay with her forever.  
  
Her vision blurred beneath the onslaught of her tears, and Faith could barely make out the First Slayer’s spirit being guided towards Buffy. How she melded with the blonde and faded out of sight. How Willow seemed to nod and look skyward before she slipped back into the weapon.  
  
The glow about Buffy and the scythe faded abruptly, and Faith felt Buffy slump forward onto her chest. Her arms slid about Buffy in a soothing embrace, ignoring the weapon digging into her ribs.  
  
“It’s alright, Buffy… you’re okay now,” she murmured soothingly to the girl, while trying to simultaneously stem the flow of her own tears.  
  
The odd rumbling of Buffy’s chest stilled her hands for a minute, but then she smiled softly.  
  
Then Faith felt her stomach flutter.  
  
“Like that, little one?” she murmured, chuckling softly.  
  
The rumbling beneath her jarred Buffy out of her stupor. She opened her eyes, which widened comically upon noticing who she was lying on.  
  
“Faith?” she asked, somewhat shakily.  
  
“Hey, B! You… uh… mind getting up now? I’m all about the sisterly love, but this pole digging into my chest is killing me.”  
  
Buffy scrambled off Faith, and was struck by a wave of dizziness. Faith was there in an instant, wrapping Buffy’s arm around her shoulder and drawing her close to her side; she palmed the scythe in her other hand.  
  
Just then, Robin came racing into view. He ground to a halt at seeing the two girls walking together.  
  
“Faith?” he asked, taking a hesitant step forward.  
  
“Five-by-five, baby. Though, you can give me a hand here. B’s a little out of it, I think.”  
  
Robin hurried towards the pair and easily lifted Buffy into his arms.  
  
“Come on. Let’s get back to the others.”


	14. Chapter 14

Spike beat Sam severely for daring to harm his mate, and Angel hadn’t intervened. Not that he could, even if he’d wanted to – he was busy dealing with his deranged childe, who’d turned on him like a wounded boar the second he’d prevented her from going after the two slayers.  
  
His stake was out, and Spike was kneeling over the unmoving vamp, ready to deliver its death blow, when Buffy’s voice stopped him cold with only a word. His name.  
  
“Spike…”  
  
He nearly toppled over, his head swiveled in her direction so fast. She was being carried back into the park by Robin, Faith at his side.  
  
“Buffy?” Spike whispered, his eyes roaming over her face and body, looking for any signs of trauma. Her eyes were haunted, but other than that, she appeared alright. The other slayer, Faith, didn’t have a mark on her either.  
  
She nodded, too tired to do much of anything else. Her eyes beckoned him forward, pleaded with him to hold her – that she needed him.  
  
Spike left the broken vamp where he lay and hurried to his mate’s side, taking great pains to be gentle as he shifted her into his arms.  
  
“I’ll just finish up—” Faith began, already starting towards the downed Sam.  
  
“No!” Buffy was adamant, even if her denial lacked any strength. Still, Faith paused and looked questioningly at Buffy. “Let them go. I’ve… I’ve already lost enough of my family.”  
  
“But, B…” Her face showed her confusion.  
  
“Please, Faith. Just… do this for me. Okay?”  
  
“Yeah… okay,” she agreed, however, the tone of her voice indicated she was anything but happy with Buffy’s request.  
  
“Baby?” Robin questioned.  
  
“Not my town…” she replied. “Though, all bets are off if they come my way,” she hastened to point out. Loudly.  
  
Buffy nodded and laid her head wearily against Spike’s shoulder. It was more than she’d expected. Heck, she wasn’t even sure why she’d told Faith not to stake them. They were both evil. Both killers.  
  
“Okay, you heard her. Angel! Say goodbye to the psychotic vampire and let’s go. We’ve got an Ancient to see to.”  
  
Angel seemed surprised that they weren’t going to do anything to either of his childer. He watched as Spike carried Buffy out of the park and back towards the SUV, both Faith and Robin not far behind. He turned back to see Drusilla regarding him; she’d calmed a few moments before Buffy had returned, almost like she’d been caught up in the same spell that had finally given Buffy her “balance.” Her mouth opened as if she were about to speak, but Angel cut her off.  
  
“Take Sam and go, Dru. There’s nothing for you here. If I catch you in my town again, I won’t be as lenient as Buffy was tonight.”  
  
He turned and walked off, barely sparing Sam – his other childe – a glance as he hurried to catch up with Spike and the others. Faith was right; they had more important matters to see to.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The small group was met with little fanfare when they returned to the Hyperion. In fact, the only one who seemed to be awaiting their return was Cordelia, and that because in her self-appointed title of overseer, she really had very little to actually do.  
  
Spike crossed the lobby, giving a slight nod of hello to the girl, and headed straight for the stairs, needing to be alone with his mate. Neither had taken time to really grieve for the loss of Dawn, and while he didn’t think either of them was quite ready to do that just yet, their being together for a time was a start.  
  
“Buffy?” Cordelia questioned softly of Angel, her eyes on Spike and Buffy as they silently climbed the stairs to the rooms above.  
  
“She’s okay. Doesn’t remember anything. Which is a good thing, I guess,” Angel replied, his voice equally low. “What have you guys managed to find out about Illyria?”  
  
“Not much, actually. The Furies will be by tomorrow. Something about a gig someplace else tonight.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh! Wes and Fred think they should go back to the lab, get another look at the sarcophagus.”  
  
Angel held up a finger, about to object to that idea, but Cordelia’s face grew serious.  
  
“Angel, there’s something else. It’s about Gunn.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“He had no way of knowing,” Cordelia told him quickly, once she’d finished her explanation Gunn’s involvement.  
  
Angel was barely listening, his mind going over what he’d been told.  
  
“If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I knew that there was some girl in blue. I just couldn’t see her face. If I had, Dawn would be alive right now.”  
  
“No, Cordy. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” Buffy told them from the top of the banister.  
  
“Buffy!” Angel turned abruptly, his eyes trained on Buffy and Spike, who began slowly walking back down the stairs. “You should be in bed,” he admonished.  
  
“I’ll rest later. After…”  
  
Seeing Spike’s frown, Angel could tell that it wasn’t his idea that Buffy was up and about.  
  
“What do you mean it’s your fault?” Cordelia asked.  
  
“I’m the one that changed the outcome of Illyria’s shell. So I’m the one that killed Dawnie.”  
  
“But how?” she asked, obviously confused.  
  
“Lorne. He heard me sing. Told me things were going to happen. Nothing specific, but my dreams took care of that.”  
  
Buffy lowered herself onto one of the couches, curling into Spike’s side once he sat down next to her, needing his strength.  
  
Angel and Cordelia took the second couch, and Buffy couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s sudden shyness at being in such close proximity to Angel. Something must have happened between the two in the time she’d been away to cause the furtive looks both were casting the other’s way.  
  
Robin rounded out the impromptu meeting when he sat down as well, tugging Faith onto his lap. It was the first time someone had mentioned what was actually going on, other than the fact that Faith had been needed to help bring Buffy back to herself. He was interested, despite the obvious concerns for his and Faith’s safety. Though, hearing about the youngest Summers’ death came as a shock. He’d listened half-heartedly to the spattering of conversation among Giles and the others once Faith had abruptly left the room, back when they’d still been at Wolfram & Hart. It just hadn’t clicked that they were talking about Dawn being taken over by the Ancient.  
  
“Oh… Buffy. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”  
  
“It’s okay, Robin. Thanks though.”  
  
“You mentioned dreams, B.” Faith prodded. She, too, had dreamed. But she’d been unable to decipher their cryptic messages. Leave it to the Powers to vague it up for a girl.  
  
“Yes… And I thought if I could stay away from Los Angeles nothing would happen. That I needed to be _here_ in order for my dreams to come to pass.”  
  
“Oh, luv. I’m sorry.” Spike hugged Buffy close, remembering her reticence about returning to the States.  
  
“It’s not your fault, Spike.” She smiled softly at her mate, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Guess there’s no escaping your destiny, is there? Anyway… I don’t want anybody blaming anyone here. What’s done is done. We just need to fix it.”  
  
Gunn chose that moment to walk out of the office, and seeing the others gathered, walked from behind the counter and joined them out in the lobby.  
  
“What’s up?” he asked. “You guys just get back?”  
  
“Yes. We were just going over some things. The sarcophagus, Knox’s involvement,” Angel replied.  
  
“Oh…”  
  
“We know about you signing the customs form, Gunn,” Angel told him. “No one’s blaming you. You couldn’t have known.”  
  
Gunn looked around the room, seeing their pained, but reassuring expressions.  
  
“I was going to tell you, after I finished speaking to the Conduit. But you and Spike were gone, and Buffy…” his voice trailed off. “I went back to the doctor. To make him take it all back. He wouldn’t. When I tried to question him about the sarcophagus, he closed up. I couldn’t get anything out of him, no matter how hard I hit him.”  
  
“Maybe I’ll have myself a go,” Spike commented.  
  
“I don’t want you back there,” Angel told him.  
  
“Who says I’ve got to go inside. Man’s gotta go home sometime.”  
  
Angel sighed and relented. They were running out of leads; they needed _something_. And if Spike was appeased by putting it to the evil doctor, Angel wasn’t going to stop him.  
  
“I want you back before dawn.”  
  
Spike smirked. He pulled Buffy close and gave a quick kiss to her temple. “Get some sleep, luv. You need to get your strength back. I’m sure the magic did a number on you.” He looked at his sire. “Angel, you and the others’ll look out for her?” _See that she stays put_ , he didn’t add.  
  
Angel nodded.  
  
“Good. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike leaving was like a signal to the others and the small group broke up. Faith left the scythe with Buffy, and taking Robin’s hand, climbed the stairs to one of the vacant rooms above. Buffy figured Faith and Wood had a lot to discuss – especially given the rapid heartbeat she heard in addition to Faith’s own. Gunn disappeared towards the kitchen, probably to get some food for himself and the others. Cordelia also went upstairs; she’d done as much overseeing as she could, her body still tiring easily. She wasn’t surprised to see Angel follow after her.  
  
Buffy was, however, surprised to see him return not ten minutes later.  
  
“I’ve got to go out for a bit. I’ve some things I need to take care of.”  
  
“What things?”  
  
“I’ll explain when I get back…”  
  
“Angel, I really don’t think _now_ is a good time to be going off on your own.” Buffy frowned, her hands on her hips.  
  
“Buffy… I… There’s something I’ve got to do. And I need you to do me a favor.”  
  
Buffy nodded, though reluctantly.  
  
“I’m… well… just look out for the others. After I do this, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Oh and if a young kid shows up… answering to the name of Steven… or Connor… try not to kill him, okay?”  
  
“Uh… okay.”  
  
With that cryptic message, Buffy watched as Angel disappeared out the front door.  
  
She walked around for a bit acquainting herself with their temporary quarters, but was soon bored. And she didn’t feel like returning to her room – at least not with Spike away. Hearing the muted discussion coming from the office, Buffy decided to make her way in that direction. Research wasn’t her strong suit, or _any_ suit for that matter, but she could sit and offer moral support.  
  
“You heard Angel,” Giles was saying. “He doesn’t want us back in there.”  
  
“Yes, but I think the sarcophagus may be the key. We need to examine it further,” Wesley argued.  
  
“I agree,” Buffy announced from the doorway, lending her opinion.  
  
“Buffy!” Giles jumped up and quickly embraced his slayer. “You’re alright!”  
  
“I’m fine, Giles.”  
  
“Where are Spike and the others?”  
  
“Spike’s out trying to get information out of a certain doctor. Faith and Robin have gone to bed, I think. So has Cordelia. Angel went out for something, I’m not sure _what_ exactly. He mentioned a Steven or Connor. Ring any bells?”  
  
“Not to me,” Giles confessed. “Any of you?” he asked of the others.  
  
“Nope.” Fred shook her head.  
  
“Nor I,” Wesley added. “Lorne?”  
  
The demon shook his head. No one recognized either name – at least not in connection with Angel.  
  
“Hey, guys. I’ve got munchies,” Gunn announced, walking in behind Buffy. When no one made a move toward the food in his hand, he stopped, his gaze shooting about the room. “What’s up?”  
  
“Does the name Steven or Connor mean anything to you?”  
  
“Uh… no? Should it?”  
  
“I’m not sure, actually. It was just something Angel said.” Buffy shrugged her shoulders. It was a mystery that could be solved later. “Anyway, I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I think we need to sneak back inside Wolfram  & Hart and get a look at that sarcophagus.”  
  
“We’re going back?” Gunn asked.  
  
“I still think—” Giles tried to interject.  
  
“Giles,” Buffy interrupted. “We’re running out of time. We need answers. Having another look around, it could give us some of those answers. And lord knows we’re fresh out of them right now.”  
  
“Very well. Though, I’ll have you know, this goes against my better judgment.”  
  
“I’ll drive,” Gunn volunteered. “Hey, and while we’re there, we should check Knox’s files. See if he’s slipped up and left anything behind.”  
  
“Good idea,” Buffy agreed. “Okay. I’ll go with Wesley and Gunn. Giles, if you and Fred could stay here, continue to research this Illyria.” She gestured to the huge stack of books piled on top of the desk. “I know it’s asking a lot.”  
  
“Alright. We’ll do what we can. Just… Buffy, please be careful. I’m not sure what type of reception you’ll receive now that Angel has officially left the company.”  
  
“I will. We should be back before either Spike or Angel return.” _Hopefully_ , she didn’t add.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy walked in through the front door of Wolfram & Hart behind Gunn and Wesley… and froze. Coming towards her were none other than Dawn – no, _Illyria_ , she hastily reminded herself – and Fred’s former assistant, Knox.  
  
She reacted without thought, pushing her way through the two men to take out the thing that had killed her sister. She was surprised at how easily she was stopped, how she was thrown back through the front glass doors, the fact that she was the Slayer insignificant to the Ancient. It didn’t stop Buffy from leaping to her feet and tearing back in through the gaping hole she’d made, however. She leapt… and when she finally landed, the thing wearing her sister’s face, and Knox, were both gone.  
  
“Where the hell did they go?” she demanded as she turned every which way, trying to find some scent to go by. She got nothing from the blue creature, and Knox’s was so faint as to be nonexistent.  
  
“I’m not quite sure,” Wesley replied.  
  
“Can she like, teleport or something?” Buffy asked.  
  
“I don’t think so. There was no characteristic displacement of the atmosphere around her,” Wesley told her.  
  
“So she moves really fast then?” Gunn asked, trying to keep things in simple terms.  
  
“Either that, or we were moving really slow,” Wesley told him.  
  
“Well, no time to worry about it now. Let’s get to the lab.”  
  
“Yes. I suppose you’re correct.” Wesley pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Buffy. “You might want to… ah…” He gestured to her face.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Their foray into the lion’s den hadn’t turned up much. Knox had been diligent, and a scouring of his office had revealed nothing useful. They did, however, manage to pry the five stones embedded in top of the sarcophagus free; they were hidden away in a satchel and tucked securely against Buffy’s side.  
  
They were almost back to the hotel when Gunn nearly drove them off the road.  
  
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, Charlie!” Buffy yelled from the back seat.  
  
Gunn turned the steering wheel and managed to get them back on course. The sounds of car horns blared loudly all around them. He looked over at Wesley. “Did… did you—?”  
  
“Yes,” he whispered.  
  
“Did you _what_?” Buffy demanded.  
  
“Angel… and Connor,” Wesley whispered. “Oh god…”  
  
“What? What is it?”  
  
“Nothing… I… it’s like I’ve suddenly got these _memories_ …”  
  
“Who’s Connor?”  
  
“Angel’s son.” Gunn answered.  
  
Buffy blinked.  
  
“I’m sorry. Did you say Angel’s _son_?”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
No one was in the front lobby when Angel finally returned to the Hyperion – alone. The meeting with his son hadn’t gone like he’d expected. Like he’d _hoped_. Though he had to admit, Connor not attacking him outright was a check mark in the plus column.  
  
He’d hated to see the innocence stripped from the boy, the way his eyes became haunted and pain-filled as his memories returned. Explaining Cordelia’s miraculous awakening from her coma had softened the look for a short time, before Connor remembered that it had been some _thing_ possessing her that had seduced him, that had professed to have feelings for him, rather than any affection she might bear herself.  
  
In the end, Connor had elected to stay with his new family – at least for the time being. They’d parted ways not long after, Angel desperate to show his child how much he was loved.  
  
But something had held him back. The way Connor held himself so stiffly, his body language practically screamed “hands off.” Like he was one step away from reverting back to the crazed youth he’d become when Jasmine’s deception had been realized.  
  
“You’re welcome anytime, Connor…” Angel had finally whispered, then turned and walked away.  
  
He’d wandered the streets for a while, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy that had settled over him and refused to be lifted. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected. Something besides the stilted awkwardness as the two had stood there staring at each other once the spell had been broken. Maybe because it had been Willow urging him to do it, that he thought things would turn out differently. That his son would welcome him with open arms, and maybe a little affection.  
  
Such had definitely not been the case.  
  
It was Buffy’s pain, and their needing to resolve the thing with Illyria, that had finally turned him homeward bound. Plus, he’d needed to see how his crew was handling the aftermath of the memory spell being broken.  
  
The sound of muted conversation drifted out from the back office, and Angel forced himself to move in that direction. There was no sense putting it off any longer. He paused in the doorway, watching as Giles held up a purple stone to the light.  
  
“I think this one is your best bet. It’s the only one of the five that shows any kind of craftsmanship,” Giles commented and turned to Buffy. “Let’s hope that this will negate the effects of whatever Illyria did to you earlier.”  
  
That brought a growl out of Angel, and the occupants of the room all turned towards the newcomer.  
  
“Angel!” Buffy gasped. So intent on studying one of the white, naturally formed crystals, she’d not sensed his approach.  
  
“Illyria was here?” he demanded.  
  
“Erm… not exactly,” Wesley confessed, drawing Angel’s heated gaze.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘ _not exactly_ ’?”  
  
“Uh… that is to say… we—”  
  
“Went back to Wolfram & Hart,” Buffy cut in. And immediately wished she hadn’t when Angel pierced her with a look that nearly had her jumping out of her chair and rushing to his side in an attempt to placate him.  
  
“You did _what_?”  
  
Buffy lowered her head, the vampire demon inside her quivering slightly in the face of his apparent rage. Then the Slayer part of her took over and her head snapped up defiantly – which she noticed caused Angel’s eyes to flare and become tinted with amber – and stated, “We needed more information on Illyria, Angel. You and Spike were gone, so we took a vote. We went back to get another look at the sarcophagus and to see if Knox left behind anything incriminating.”  
  
The muscle in his jaw ticked, and Angel silently counted to ten. He got to thirty before he trusted himself to speak – though when he finally did, his voice was rather husky as he fought the urge to shout.  
  
“And… did you _find_ anything?”  
  
“Other than the fact that Illyria moves really fast and is wicked strong?” Buffy asked.  
  
Angel took note of Buffy’s bruises, her recently healed cuts and scrapes. Spike was _not_ going to be pleased, which just increased his ire. Already imagining _that_ confrontation.  
  
“Yes. Other than that,” he ground out.  
  
“Well…”  
  
“We were able to prise the stones from the sarcophagus and bring them back with us,” Wesley intervened again.  
  
“We think that Illyria is able to manipulate time in some fashion,” Fred added, not recognizing the undercurrent between Angel and Buffy. “These stones may be able to counteract that effect… at least that’s our theory anyway.”  
  
Before he had a chance to respond, Angel heard the front door open, his senses telling him right away that Spike had returned.  
  
“In here, Spike,” he called out, eyes intent on Buffy – pleased to see how she paled slightly.  
  
It was Angel who ended up doing the fish impersonation, however, when he realized Spike wasn’t alone, but was manhandling his son into the office with him.  
  
“Connor?” he finally managed to get out.  
  
“You _know_ this kid?” Spike asked.  
  
Said kid was shooting daggers at his father.  
  
“Uh… yeah… he’s my son.”  
  
“Oh.” Spike clearly wanted to say more, a whole lot more, but seeing the pained look on Angel’s face, he wisely – for once – held his tongue. “Well, saw him lurkin’ out the back and all. And with us givin’ the Senior Partners the ol’ two-fingered salute, I figured I’d incapacitate first and ask questions later.” He let the boy go. “Sorry ‘bout that, puppy.”  
  
“I’m not a dog!” Connor growled as he tore himself free, turning to glare at the vampire that had dared to touch him.  
  
“Didn’t call you a dog, puppy.” He smirked at the kid, more than willing to take the boy’s ire on himself, rather than have it projected onto Angel, having sensed right off the bat that all was not well between the two, and that their rift was causing Angel some serious pain.  
  
“Spike…” Angel warned.  
  
“Wot?” His smile was all innocence as he glanced around the room.  
  
Angel frowned at Spike before turning away to look at his son.  
  
“Connor, what are you doing here? Um… that is… not that I’m not happy to see you…”  
  
“I couldn’t stay there. I… they didn’t remember me…”  
  
Angel’s eyes widened. He’d not thought of that.  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”  
  
“It’s alright. I’m kinda tired though. Mind if I crash?” He didn’t want to hear his father’s apologies.  
  
“Uh… sure…”  
  
“Come on, puppy. I’ll show you where you can bunk down.”  
  
“I can find my own room,” Connor all but growled.  
  
“I’ll come along if it’s all the same…”  
  
“Yeah… whatever…” His eyes narrowed with deadly intent.  
  
The two walked out of the office and silence descended over the room.  
  
Spike popped his head back in a second later.  
  
“Oh! And, I got a name… Vahla ha’nesh.”  
  
That sent Wesley, Giles, and Fred scurrying to the books scattered about the desk while Buffy, Gunn, and Angel looked on – allowing Spike to slip out of the room again unnoticed.  
  
He had a few things to discuss with the boy, out of earshot of Angel.


	15. Chapter 15

They were barely out of earshot when Connor turned and took a shot at Spike.  
  
Spike had been expecting it ever since capturing the kid. And since he was still pumped from his recent torture session of the doctor, Spike actually allowed the blow to land. The kid had an arm to him, and his punch rocked him back a full step. He grinned and fingered his jaw, causing the boy to eye him a bit warily.  
  
“Nice shot, puppy. Got a bit o’ strength to you. But don’t think that because you’re Angel’s boy that I’m gonna keep the kid gloves on if you wanna do this. That was a freebee because I’m in a right charitable mood.”  
  
“You don’t scare me,” Connor yelled.  
  
“No,” he agreed, his voice calm. “I reckon I don’t.”  
  
The boy came at him again and Spike easily sidestepped out of the way this time. He watched as the kid ground to a halt, turned, and raced towards him again. Spike could see that his anger was getting the best of him, which accounted for the series of sloppily thrown punches and kicks Connor executed, everything he easily blocked.  
  
“Had enough yet, puppy?” he goaded, adding insult to injury by smacking the boy upside the head.  
  
“I’m not a puppy!” Connor screamed. His chest was heaving, and his eyes narrowed at the vampire in front of him with deadly intent. Only problem was, Connor knew that he couldn’t best him. And there was nothing he could do, no feeling he could exploit, to gain the upper hand. This creature, this demon wasn’t his father to be taken advantage of so easily.  
  
“Ah… I see you’re starting to come to your senses. Good. _Now_ we can talk.”  
  
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Connor snapped, and he turned and stalked off, determined to ignore his tormentor.  
  
The next instant he found himself grabbed by the shoulders and shoved up against the wall so that he was face-to-face with the snarling vampire. His breath left him in a harsh whoosh the impact engendered, and Connor struggled to hide the fear he felt at being caught completely off guard, having neither seen nor heard the other’s rapid approach.  
  
“Good.” Spike struggled to contain the growl rumbling at the back of his throat, as if the little shite hadn’t tried to dismiss him out of hand. Trying to keep his tone conversational instead. “Because _I’ll_ be the one doing the talkin’. You just get to listen.”  
  
Spike stared down at the kid, his forearm digging into his throat, hard enough to get his attention without doing any real harm.  
  
“Not rightly sure what’s goin’ on, but I’ll tell you this. Your Da’s got a lot on his mind right now, and he doesn’t need you drivin’ a knife into his back, figuratively or otherwise. You’ve got the ability to hurt him, whether you realize it or not. Only, I’m not gonna let you. You want someone to take your anger out on, you come find me.” Spike leaned in close. “I promise, I’ll give ya the fight you’re looking for. Now, get outta my sight. Us grown-ups have work to do and we don’t need some ill-tempered brat getting in our way.”  
  
Spike shoved the kid towards the stairs and walked off without a backward glance.  
  
His mate was next on the list for one-on-one discussions. She had a nasty habit of blocking him out that he had to remedy. And she was a fool to think that he didn’t notice the healed cuts and bruises that hadn’t been there when he’d left.  
  
While he was at it, he was going to have words with Angel; he distinctly remembered him saying to keep an eye on the Slayer.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel watched Spike walk back into the office and couldn’t prevent his relieved sigh. He’d heard Connor’s raised voice and distinct sounds of fighting coming from the lobby, and was set to race after the pair and intervene, but a staying hand from Buffy, as well as Willow’s prophetic words, kept him from playing the enraged father and sire.  
  
Still, he frowned at seeing Spike’s cheerful, downright smug expression upon returning, right before Spike noticed his regard. The smile left his childe’s face, and Angel was on the receiving end of his cool stare. Refusing to be cowed – though Spike did have reason to be upset – Angel quirked a brow and smiled.  
  
The smile did it.  
  
Spike’s fierce look dissipated and he frowned in almost an exact image of Angel’s typical broody countenance.  
  
It was their complete role reversal that caused Angel’s bark of laughter, earning him disapproving looks from the others in the room who were busily reading. He managed to quell his mirth, barely – the sight of the others’ pinched faces striking him as rather funny.  
  
Coughing, he turned away from Spike to address Giles.  
  
“Anything yet?”  
  
“No,” the watcher answered, not bothering to look up from the text he was skimming. “Now, if you don’t mind…”  
  
Buffy heard the exasperation in Giles’ tone and took it as her cue to leave.  
  
“I think I’ll leave the research to the experts,” she told no one in particular. “I’m gonna go lay down for a while, if that’s alright?”  
  
She skirted the table to the group’s murmurs of assent, pausing only long enough to give her mate a quick kiss before she escaped the room. She didn’t miss Spike’s “we’ll talk later” face before she felt his arms wrap around her, drawing her close for a much-needed hug, and she rolled her eyes as she laid her head against his chest.  
  
Honestly, she was the Slayer. Well, sort of. They’d needed more information on Illyria – and recovering the stones from the sarcophagus definitely counted as such – and she’d made a command decision to get it. End of story.  
  
And no one had gotten hurt. _Much_. So she counted her going back to Wolfram  & Hart as a win-win situation in her book.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“You never told me you had a son.”  
  
After receiving put-upon looks from the small group researching, Spike and Angel had wisely retreated to the courtyard. Neither had said anything for the longest time, content to stare up at the sky and quietly share the bottle of whisky situated between them.  
  
Angel sighed, unsure how to proceed.  
  
“It’s complicated…”  
  
Spike stifled the twinge of hurt he felt at not having known about the boy. And how, even now, Angel was still hesitant to talk about him.  
  
“Ya know, never mind. Not my business.”  
  
“Spike—”  
  
“It’s okay. Need to get back to Buffy anyway.”  
  
Spike stood and made to walk back inside, but a firm grip wrapped about his wrist, keeping him from leaving.  
  
“Sit, Childe. I said it was complicated. I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you about him.”  
  
Spike sat and listened with amazement as Angel told him how Wolfram & Hart had tried to bring back Angelus by resurrecting Darla. How the two had eventually slept together.  
  
“Wasn’t exactly a proud moment in my life. I’d just discovered that everything I do will never be enough. That there will always be evil in the world. I slept with Darla thinking that if I could at least save her… No, that’s not true. I slept with her because I didn’t want to be Angel anymore. I thought—”  
  
“That she could give you a moment’s happiness?”  
  
“Yeah. I was tired of fighting a losing battle and figured as Angelus I wouldn’t have to care anymore.”  
  
“Darla was a bloody bitch, Sire. No way would she ever make you happy.”  
  
Angel snorted.  
  
“Too bad you weren’t around to tell me that at the time. Anyway… she disappeared. Told her I’d kill her if I caught her around LA. It was a lie, but she didn’t know it.” At Spike’s inquiring look, Angel elaborated. “I’d already killed her once. I don’t think I could have handled doing it again.”  
  
Spike nodded his understanding. Buffy had let two of Angel’s childer – deadly, evil vampires – go not long ago, so he couldn’t blame Angel for his reticence.  
  
“Darla’s the boy’s mother,” Spike announced in a moment of clarity.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How—?”  
  
“I’ll get to that. For now, I’ll tell you it had to do with some prophecy.”  
  
“Doesn’t it always?”  
  
Angel chuckled.  
  
“Seems that way, yeah,” he agreed ruefully.  
  
Angel continued his story, telling Spike of Darla’s eventual return to Los Angeles and how the soul of her unborn child had allowed her to sacrifice herself to save him.  
  
“One minute, she’s lying there, her stomach clenching constantly with her contractions, the next she was dust and Connor was there. The prophecy allowed her to carry the child, it didn’t make concessions for her to actually deliver it.”  
  
He went on to explain how his team had fallen instantly in love with the child, especially Cordelia.  
  
“It was Wes’ love for the boy that made him betray me. He thought I was going to kill Connor. He… he stole him, and was then betrayed by an old enemy of mine. A man by the name of Holtz.”  
  
“That the blighter that was tracking you and Darla way back when? The demon hunter?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Thought he was human.”  
  
“He was. He found some way to be brought forward into our time. He stole Connor and escaped into an alternate dimension. I tried… I tried to stop him.” Angel whispered the last.  
  
“I know.”  
  
Angel looked up at Spike.  
  
“You’d move heaven and hell to protect your own, Sire. It’s in your nature.”  
  
“Thanks, Will.” Covering the rush of warmth he felt at Spike’s words, he took a healthy swig from the bottle lying next to him before he continued with his story. “They spent about a month in Quar’toth. But, you know how demon dimensions are. He came back grown, a boy on the verge of becoming a man. His mind poisoned by my enemy. The sick bastard raised him as his own.”  
  
Seeing the understanding on Spike’s face made it easier for Angel to get through the rest of it – which he did quickly. Explaining Holtz’s death, and how Connor blamed him for it. Cordelia and the prophecy, and the role his son played. Jasmine and her desire to take over the world. Connor’s breakdown. Cordelia’s coma. The amulet and his deal with Wolfram & Hart.  
  
“I didn’t know about the amulet, what it would do. I figured _I’d_ be the one wearing it.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.”  
  
Angel nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. Like it was his fault that it was Spike that ended up sacrificing himself.  
  
“I really thought it would be better this way. Connor would get the family he deserved, and no one would remember him. No one except me.”  
  
“What made you change your mind?”  
  
“Willow.”  
  
“She was a smart one, our Red.”  
  
“I’m sorry I left Buffy here,” Angel added, changing the subject. “If I’d thought—”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Sire. Slayer’s a bit headstrong. Probably woulda’ gone even if you were here.”  
  
“Yes, but…”  
  
“It’s fine, Peaches.”  
  
Angel frowned at the moniker and turned to see Spike grinning unrepentantly.  
  
“You’re a pain in my ass, William. You know that?”  
  
“Don’t think Buffy would appreciate it if I was. The cheerleader either, for that matter.”  
  
It took a minute for the innuendo to sink in, but when it did, Angel couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
“Go!”  
  
“You’ll be alright here?”  
  
“Yeah. I’ll probably try and catch a few hours’ sleep soon. You should too. Not sure how long Wes and the others will be at it, and we’ll need to be fresh to deal with Illyria.”  
  
Spike nodded solemnly. He reached the door then turned back and silently regarded his sire. “I’m glad you told me. About Connor. About all of it.”  
  
Angel inclined his head, unable to get any words out for the lump in his throat. He watched as Spike walked inside and disappeared from sight.  
  
If someone had told him, back when Spike had first reappeared in his office, that he would one day have the type of relationship that he had now with the vampire, he would have checked them for fever if they were human, and run a sword through them if they were demon. As much as he regretted certain things in his past, he wouldn’t change things – especially if having what he had now was the result.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy didn’t go straight to her room. Having heard Cordelia moving about in hers as she walked down the hallway, she stopped and knocked on the door. At the slightly raised “come in,” turned the knob and let herself in.  
  
Cordelia was standing at the window, staring down at the street below. The room was dark but for a bedside lamp, its setting on the lowest one possible so that the soft glow only illuminated a tiny portion of the room. Since awakening from her coma, Cordelia hadn’t quite gotten used to bright lights, oftentimes wearing sunglasses even indoors – as if the sensors controlling her pupils were slow to function.  
  
Too, with her sorta boyfriend a vampire and possessing a slight sun allergy, she’d been keeping more nocturnal hours, and spent most of the day sleeping.  
  
“I figured you’d come looking for me,” Cordelia commented, eyes fixated on something outside the hotel.  
  
Buffy opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. She stared at her friend helplessly. Watched as the girl sighed heavily and finally turned around.  
  
“You’re gonna make me tell you, aren’t you?” One delicate, recently waxed brow arched in inquiry.  
  
“Yes. I need to know— I know you won’t lie to me.”  
  
“Bullshit. Buffy, did you ever think that maybe it’s a _good_ thing you don’t remember?”  
  
“Cordy…”  
  
“Fine.” Her tone was impatient, and she barely refrained from putting her hands on her hips to glower at her friend. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, one delicate brow arching. “You want a blow-by-blow? Or will a body count suffice?”  
  
“Just… just tell me what happened.”  
  
“You’re a masochist, Buffy. It wasn’t your fault. Angel said—”  
  
“Cordy…”  
  
“Alright. Sheesh. Dawn died. You collapsed… fainted… whatever.” She waved her hand vaguely – the move so reminiscent of Cordelia’s standoffish attitude as the reigning queen of Sunnydale High that Buffy cracked a smile. “Lab boy showed up and escaped with Illyria. I think I was knocked into a wall near the door. The details are a little vague. I might have passed out. When I came to you were all ‘grrr arggh’…” Cordelia made a face, adding clawing hand gestures for good measure – hoping to lighten the mood. “Anyway, you tore out of the hospital room killing anything that stepped into your path. I’m not sure why you left me alone, since I was right there, but my neck thanks you.”  
  
“You probably smelled like him,” she mumbled under her breath.  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Angel. You uh…” Buffy shrugged her shoulders, waving her hand in the girl’s general direction. “You smell like him.”  
  
“Okay, can I just say… ewwww?” Cordelia’s nose crinkled in distaste, much like Buffy used to do when she was being subject to Angel’s or Spike’s nose treatment.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Buffy grumbled. “I used to say the same thing. But truthfully, you smelling like Angel was probably what made me leave you alone.”  
  
“Well, I suppose that’s alright then. Just… don’t do it anymore.”  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
“It’s not like I can turn it _off_ , Cordy.”  
  
“Try.”  
  
Buffy watched Cordelia cross her arms over her chest and give her a look that screamed “you _will_ stop smelling me this instant.” Any second now, she was expecting her friend to start tapping her foot.  
  
“Yeah… whatever…” Buffy’s tone implied her friend had clearly lost it. She pointed her thumb towards the door. “I’m gonna get going. See if I can get some sleep.”  
  
Buffy was nearly to the door when Cordelia’s words stopped her in her tracks.  
  
“Let it go, Buffy. It wasn’t your fault. No one blames you for what happened.”  
  
“I can’t,” she whispered. Then she was gone, leaving Cordelia wondering if she’d done the right thing in telling her friend what happened.


	16. Chapter 16

Buffy was just emerging from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her middle, when Spike let himself into the bedroom. He shut the door softly behind him and leaned back against it; his hands scrambled to find his smokes before he thought better of it.  
  
“You and Angel talk?”  
  
“Yeah, pet,” he replied and pushed himself away from the door and walked over towards her.  
  
“Everything settled now?”  
  
She sat down before the vanity and started combing her hair, needing the rote motion to help calm her. The mirror didn’t reflect the anxiety on her face, thankfully, and she didn’t allow any of what she was feeling to transmit through the claim. Though, she didn’t shut it down completely; she knew better than to do that.  
  
She just didn’t want Spike worrying about her.  
  
Something must have given her away, however, because suddenly he was there. His hands resting lightly on her bare shoulders.  
  
“We’ll have a lot to talk about…” he told her, taking the comb from her hand and running it through her wet hair. “… once this thing with Illyria is settled. The return of his friends’ memories is going to have some serious fallout,” he added, referring to Angel’s breaking of Wolfram & Hart’s spell. “Kid’s got some issues…”  
  
“You’ll be there to help him,” Buffy replied, leaning back into his touch, taking pleasure in the simple act of him combing her hair. Unconsciously she began to purr, her eyes fluttering closed.  
  
“Tired, luv?”  
  
“Mmmm hmmm…”  
  
“Well, come on then. Let’s get you to bed. Not sure when Rupert’s gonna come get us. Need to be ready.”  
  
Spike reached around her and set the comb on the vanity. He easily lifted the Slayer into his arms and moved towards the bed. The towel fell away when he set her on her feet and he couldn’t prevent the slight hitch of breath as she stood naked before him.  
  
“Buffy…” he whispered, a bolt of lust going through him. _Too long_ , he couldn’t help but think. Too long since he’d touched her. Her. Not the demon that had been so close to the surface. Too long since he’d made love to his mate. Slowly. Leisurely. With all the tender emotions he’d never been able to suppress – even after being turned. “Love, I…”  
  
“Yes… Spike, make love to me.” _Make me forget. At least for a little while._  
  
Spike shed his clothes in a matter of minutes, letting them fall to the floor. Then he was lifting her, settling her on top of the covers before coming to rest between her thighs, his body pressed against hers. Both gasped, like it had been days, weeks, since they’d done this. Spike kissed her, hoping to convey what she meant to him.  
  
Their world grew smaller and smaller until it consisted of only them. Every touch, every kiss, every softly whispered word of love they gave. It was all they needed, all they’d ever need. Spike nudged Buffy’s legs wider and slid home, and it only furthered the swell of emotion growing between the two.  
  
They rocked together slowly, nowhere near ready to end the dance anytime soon. Their eyes were open, staring intently at the other. Mouths moved soundlessly. _Love you. Love you. Forever._ A nod.  
  
Hazel and blue gave way to amber. Demons emerged. The vow was repeated. _Forever._  
  
They moved simultaneously seeking the other’s neck. Blood splashed onto their tongues, throat muscles worked as they swallowed each other down. Climaxes hit after only a handful of swallows. Spike growled around the mouthful of flesh he couldn’t bear to part from just yet. Buffy froze, her jaw going lax in the grip of her orgasm. She whispered Spike’s name, or maybe Sire – she wasn’t quite sure.  
  
There was a blinding light before her eyes… and then nothing. Total darkness, but nothing worrisome. She was drifting, floating on a euphoric wave of post-coital pleasure. Free but for the fangs still lodged in her throat, that still sipped her occasionally.  
  
It was perfect. And for a moment she was content. Happy. She smiled, already halfway to sleep.  
  
_“Rest, luv.”_  
  
And she did, drawn into the comforting embrace of her lover. Her Sire. Her mate.  
  
Spike watched her for a time, afraid that if he were to close his eyes, she would slip away. They’d yet to have their talk, about her habit of shutting him out. Even now, with her asleep, he could tell that she was hiding pieces of herself. That the contented feeling he could sense through the claim wasn’t everything.  
  
He knew she was upset about Dawn’s death, but not one trace of that was felt by him. And it worried him. Worried and astonished him that she had that kind of power.  
  
The ability to manipulate the claim so easily.  
  
Finally he sighed. It would have to wait. Right now they needed to focus on dealing with Illyria. Prevent her from bringing back her army and unleashing hell on earth.  
  
_Always something,_ he snorted. _A nice apocalypse-free century would be nice._  
  
It wasn’t too much to ask. At least he didn’t think so. He smiled and closed his eyes, imagining his conversation with the Powers the others kept going on about. And though pumped on the Slayer’s blood, he managed to drift off, joining his mate in slumber.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“I’m coming with you!”  
  
“No, you’re not!” Buffy argued.  
  
“Look. You need me,” Faith snapped back, ignoring her boyfriend and his heated protestations. She’d spilled the beans about being pregnant, so to speak, and he’d been the most vocal in his displeasure at her leaving with the vampires to take on Illyria.  
  
“What I _need_ is for you to take care of that baby you’re carrying,” Buffy insisted. There were gasps all around by the humans who’d not known, and Giles – who had been in Faith’s corner, citing strength in numbers as their best offense – quickly changed his vote, earning a grateful look from Robin. And a glare from Faith.  
  
“I can give her a li’l love tap. Just enough to knock her out,” Spike threw out.  
  
Robin’s eyes narrowed, not that he believed the vampire would actually do it however. Even though a teeny tiny part of him wished he would.  
  
“I’d like to see you try, Blondie.” Hands on hips, Faith glared at Spike.  
  
Angel, ever the mediator, finally stepped in. “Faith—”  
  
“Uh uh… not you _too_ ,” she whined, seconds away from stomping her foot like a two-year-old.  
  
“Buffy’s right, Faith. We can’t chance you getting hurt.”  
  
“But…”  
  
“No buts. You’re staying and that’s final. Besides, I need you here to look after the others. There’s been no fallout with my abrupt resignation, but that doesn’t mean the senior partners aren’t planning some kind of retaliation. With you here, I won’t have to worry about their safety. Please, Faith. Can you just…?”  
  
“Fine!” She crossed her hands over her chest and glared at Angel, and not even her boyfriend snuggling up behind her, resting his hands over her middle was enough to get her to soften her stance. “But, if Illyria hands you guys your asses, I’ll be very vocal in my ‘I told you so’s.’”  
  
“Cheeky bint. I like that. Be good, sweets. Mind the shop,” Spike teased, ruffling her hair. Chuckling outright when Robin had to forcibly restrain her from hurling herself after him. “Robin, I’m sure you can keep her… _entertained_ until we get back.”  
  
He sauntered out the front door, leaving Buffy and Angel to roll their eyes at his back. They quickly followed; Wesley and Gunn brought up the rear.  
  
The door closed behind the group and those remaining stared after them, long after the SUV roared to life and spun away. Each was wondering if the mission would be successful. Whether or not all of them would return once it was finished.  
  
Or if this had been the last time they saw their friends alive.  
  
Faith was the last to turn away, and she nearly collapsed in Robin’s arms.  
  
“It’s okay, baby. They’ll be back,” he murmured against her hair while he rubbed her back in a soothing manner. “Shhh…it’s alright…”  
  
He just prayed he wasn’t telling her a lie.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The last of the bones disappeared and Knox sat back on his heels.  
  
“Showtime,” he grinned.  
  
“Save us a seat then?” Spike asked, leaning indolently against the wall; the tip of his sword rested on the marble flooring, the hilt he held loosely in his hand.  
  
“If not, we can just stand in the back,” Angel dead-panned. He, Buffy, and the two humans, Gunn and Wesley, were fanned out next to him. All were eyeing Illyria and Knox, practically daring them to make a move. All were carrying weapons – the most glaring, the red scythe held in Buffy’s hands.  
  
“Uh… news flash, guys? Illyria… about to raise her army. You can’t win this,” Knox told them.  
  
“Then we’ll all die trying,” Wesley informed him, his voice not wavering in the slightest.  
  
Illyria cocked her head to the side, trying to process what the human and half-breeds were attempting to do. “You would seek a confrontation that you cannot win?”  
  
“Yes,” Angel announced.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Well, for starters… You murdered a girl. Stole her body,” Angel told her.  
  
“And you think that by attempting to kill me, you will get her back?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Your actions… they are confusing to me.”  
  
“Not the brightest one, is she?” Spike commented. He pushed himself away from the wall and brought his sword up. “It’s simple, Blue. You’re trying to take over our planet. We’re here to stop you. Okay?” He turned and looked at Angel. “Can we fight now?”  
  
Angel allowed himself a slight smirk.  
  
Illyria’s gaze centered on Spike.  
  
“You consider yourself a protector?”  
  
“Duh… ain’t you been listening? No wonder they sealed you away in a bloody sarcophagus. Pretty dumb for an Ancient.”  
  
Illyria didn’t respond to the insult. Instead she switched her attention back to Angel, who’d walked down the steps.  
  
“You would fight for their lives? All of these creatures’ lives.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Even this one?” she asked, turning to look at Knox.  
  
“Uh…? King? Illyria…? Is that an issue? Is my life in peril?”  
  
Illyria ignored him; he was beneath her notice. Much like the quintet standing before her – though they, at least, provided a bit of amusement.  
  
“Yes. As much as it pains me to say it, even him,” Angel replied in answer to her question.  
  
The dagger sliced through the air and embedded itself in Knox’s throat. His eyes widened in shocked disbelief, then his body crumpled to the floor. No one bothered to look at the fallen human; he was already dead. Instead, they all focused on the vamped Slayer now fisting the scythe in two hands.  
  
Spike would have given his mate an “atta girl,” if not for the fact that her victim had been human, and she wasn’t supposed to be taking human lives.  
  
“Buffy,” Angel growled.  
  
She just shrugged, like Knox’s death was of no consequence. And Spike knew in that moment that they were dealing with her vampire demon. As quickly as it powered its way to the fore, her demon faded away, leaving behind Buffy – a very _determined_ Buffy.  
  
“He killed Dawn,” she said, as if that were explanation enough.  
  
“You killed my Qwa’ha Xahn!” Illyria snarled.  
  
“Oops?”  
  
“This mean we get to fight now?” Spike asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, throwing himself at the Ancient while her attention was diverted. It didn’t help his cause, however; he was easily caught and thrown back against the wall. His sword fell from his grasp and clattered to the ground, and he wasn’t far behind. He slumped there, spit out a mouthful of blood and attempted to clear the stars swimming before his eyes.  
  
That was the signal for the others to attack. Angel led the charge, his sword up and ready to cleave Illyria in two. He growled, vamped, put on a burst of speed… and ended up in much the same position as Spike, rubbing his jaw where he’d been backhanded.  
  
Buffy and the others weren’t faring much better, though Angel noticed that Illyria was avoiding the scythe completely.  
  
_Interesting._  
  
Angel scrambled to his feet and retrieved his sword, Spike right behind him, if somewhat the worse for wear. The two charged Illyria on either side, hoping that one of them would be able to land a blow. Their eyes widened as she gripped the tips of their swords in either hand and slowly brought them in front of her – like she was inspecting the edge for its sharpness. A second later, she’d disarmed them both and sent their weapons skittering away across the floor.  
  
Spike shrugged and threw himself at the Ancient, fists and fangs were just fine with him. He got in a lucky hit since she wasn’t expecting the move… not that it did any good; she barely even flinched.  
  
It did, however, anger her that he’d dared touch her. Her hand closed around his throat and she proceeded to pummel him in the face until he hung limp in her outstretched hand. When she’d had enough, she tossed him aside, where he lay unmoving. Unconscious after the beating he’d taken.  
  
Buffy screamed Spike’s name and threw herself into the fray. Only to freeze, mid-leap, as Illyria waved her hand and distorted time.  
  
Illyria gave a cursory glance to the others, then waved her hand again. The portal leading to her army appeared and she smiled and turned away.  
  
Angel was there waiting for her. Grinning.  
  
“How?”  
  
Angel held up one of the crystals from her sarcophagus. “It’s connected to you. I’m connected to it.”  
  
“Sneaky.”  
  
Illyria backhanded him, knocking him into Buffy.  
  
“You’re too late,” she told him. “My army will rise. This world will be mine once again.”  
  
She jumped into the yawning opening and disappeared.  
  
With Angel now touching Buffy, she fell to the ground, Slayer reflexes enabling her to land on her feet – her hand still touching him.  
  
“Hurry! She’s getting away!” she cried.  
  
Together the two jumped into the portal after her. Right before it disappeared.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“No. It can’t be,” Illyria whispered and fell to her knees. Unmoving, she stared out at what had once been her kingdom, now lying in ruins before her. “It’s gone. My world is gone.”  
  
“Now you know how I feel,” Buffy growled. She raised her scythe, intent on striking the death blow.  
  
But Illyria turned. Blue melted away, leaving her sister – Dawn – staring up at her with tears in her eyes.  
  
“Buffy?”  
  
“Dawnie?” Buffy froze; her weapon nearly dropping to the ground. She didn’t see the slight smirk from Illyria, or hear Angel’s, “it’s not her, Buffy. It’s not your sister.” The scythe fell from hands that were now shaking. She took a step forward, and then another. Her hand lifted, reached out as if to touch her sister’s face.  
  
Illyria surged to her feet and punched the Slayer in her face, the force of it hurling her several yards away.  
  
However, she’d not counted on the other vampire.  
  
Angel palmed the scythe and plunged the stake side into her chest. A vicious twist, which caused Illyria to gasp in pain, then he pulled it free. While the Ancient was reeling from the blow of the Slayer weapon, he twirled it in his hand. He swung, growling ferociously, bent on severing Illyria’s head from her shoulders before he could stop himself.  
  
Buffy screamed her denial.  
  
_“Angel! Nooooo!”_  
  
Angel watched the body slump to the floor. The skin-tight multi-colored leather cat suit disappeared, the magic sustaining it now gone. He shrugged out of his coat and covered what he could.  
  
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he murmured as he turned.  
  
She wasn’t there to hear his apology. Seeing Angel kill Illyria… it was like losing her sister all over again.  
  
Her mind shut down and she ran.


	17. Chapter 17

Buffy was tired.  
  
For the past year, she’d roamed the country, never staying more than a few days at a time in one city. At least not once she’d finally broken down and stolen into a blood bank to feed. Human blood was needed to keep the dark side of her appeased – though she’d yet to really test that theory since having the Slayer demon returned to her body – it was either that, or Sire’s blood, and since it had been so long since she’d had the other, human blood it was.  
  
It had taken her a couple of months to discover how long she could actually go without feeding. The number crystallized in her mind – four days. At first, she’d fed every day – snacked really – but as the weight of what she’d done, the despondency over the lack of being with her mate began to get to her, she’d begun to feed less and less. Two months later, she’d nearly killed her first human – the first human she remembered, leastways. In the aftermath of that incident in the alley, she’d always made sure that she would feed before the hunger became too great.  
  
_Spike…_  
  
Selfishly she opened herself to him, wanting a bit of comfort before she was gone. Needing to convey how much she truly loved him, while at the same time masking how horrible she truly felt. That it was her fault she couldn’t get past Dawn’s death, not his. Not that it worked. After having cut him off for so long, she was unable to filter her emotions… and he was privy to it all.  
  
In return, she sensed his urgency, and his love. So much love it brought tears to her eyes. He loved her still and just wanted her to come home.  
  
_‘Not worthy of your love…’_  
  
_‘Yes you are…’_ came back to her.  
  
Now, as she looked out over the moonlit ocean, listening to the waves crash against the shore, she wondered why she’d bothered running for so long. Why she’d taken this long before giving up and ending it. The last year had been nothing but pain. A year spent apart from Spike and the others, and she was no closer to coming to grips with what she’d done. The monster she’d become. The friends, the _sister_ , she’d been unable to save.  
  
_I’m a failure… Oh god… Dawnie…_  
  
And that was the crux of the matter.  
  
She’d failed at protecting her sister, unable to do anything except watch as her organs had been liquefied, leaving only a shell to be taken over by Illyria. Here she was, imbued with the First Slayer’s essence, was essentially _The Slayer ___, the mother hen, and she hadn’t even been able to prevent Dawnie’s death.  
  
True, it had been Angel that had sent the bitch back to her resting place, Buffy seeing only Dawn as she looked upon the blue-skinned thing inhabiting her sister’s body and unable to actually do it herself. Yet, she’d felt the scythe slice through her own body as it cleaved the Ancient in two.  
  
It had been like watching Dawn die all over again.  
  
Her mind had shut down, and she’d been running ever since.  
  
Only now, now she was tired. Tired of the constant pain. She craved the peace that was once lost. Knowing it could be found in the rising sun.  
  
So she sat there unmoving, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs as she waited.  
  
_Not long now…_  
  
Amber eyes watched the sky grow steadily lighter, until the tip of the sun crested the watery horizon. She could feel her skin begin to smolder, and she forced herself to let it happen, to watch. To see the sun rise one final time.  
  
The green mist coalesced out of nothing, but Buffy was too focused on the orange globe steadily rising in the sky. One minute her skin was beginning to burn and flake, the next… nothing. She still watched the sun come up, chasing away the darkness, but the burning sensation was gone. The peace she was so close to achieving was gone.  
  
And she began to cry in earnest, closing off her link with Spike, not willing to subject him to any more of her misery.  
  
_Why_ couldn’t they let her go? Didn’t they realize how much this was killing her? Dawn was dead. And it was _her_ fault. By altering the situation with Fred, she’d ended up sacrificing her own sister. Dawn was dead because of her.  
  
_“Buffy…”_  
  
Buffy didn’t hear her name being called, too caught up in the grief she’d finally given vent to. Her slender shoulders shook silently in her despair; her tears fell steadily down her pale, gaunt face. Alone on the deserted beach, no one was witness to her misery.  
  
The energy swirled around her as she collapsed to the ground and huddled in a ball. Protected her against the death she so desperately craved.  
  
_“Buffy…”_  
  
If the mist could, it would have rolled its eyes impatiently.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Sire!” Spike bellowed, bursting into the large hotel room the six of them shared, one in a long line of rooms they’d rented the past year.  
  
Angel stood up from the chair where he’d been trying to triangulate Buffy’s whereabouts with a local map of the area. Cordelia sat beside him, her face pale and sporting several layers of dark circles beneath haunted eyes that stared up anxiously at Spike, too afraid to hope. They’d been so close so many times in the past. Connor – he’d given up on ever being called Steven again thanks to Spike and his refusal to dignify Holtz’s name for the kid – sat on the other side of her, his hand giving his “stepmom’s” a slight squeeze in support while they waited for Spike to speak.  
  
He must have found out something, if his excitement was anything to go by. It was the most animated anyone had seen him in the last year.  
  
Cordelia blamed herself for that, and tried to assuage her guilt by looking after Spike. She knew it was the conversation she had had with Buffy that had set her off, causing her to disappear without a trace. Angel knew better and had tried to convince her of the fact – not that it had done any good; Cordy was as stubborn as his childe, more so in fact. _He’d_ been the one to kill Illyria. And with Buffy there to witness the deed. _He_ was the one responsible for her leaving.  
  
Many a night he’d woken from restless dreams, hearing her anguished denial ringing in his ears at what he’d done.  
  
Seeing the effect her absence had on his childe hadn’t helped his guilt either.  
  
Spike had come to, calling for Buffy, having not been able to sense her through the claim. Eyes swollen shut, his lip split open and spilling blood – he’d whispered her name over and over.  
  
Each unanswered call had been like a lance through Angel’s soul. Pointed looks at both Gunn and Wesley as he’d knelt down and hefted his childe up into his arms had met with shrugs and a slight shake of their heads, their faces showing their concern – but neither had seen the Slayer emerge from the portal. He’d had the two retrieve Dawn’s body and the scythe and the four had reluctantly made their way back to the Hyperion.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Buffy… It’s… She’s on the beach. We’ve gotta hurry. I’ll be dawn soon,” Spike told him just as Wesley emerged from the bathroom.  
  
Angel was shocked. In the last year, not once had Spike been able to sense Buffy.  
  
“She’s letting you in?”  
  
“Yes…” he whispered. He didn’t tell Angel how badly it hurt. How desolate the Slayer felt. His sire had been carrying a lot of baggage, and part of it was Spike’s fault – he’d not been the best company the first few months after Buffy had left. He’d been more dead than undead. Refusing to eat. Refusing to do anything but waste away.  
  
Until Angel had taken matters in his own hands.  
  
Spike was still far too lean, but then, they all were. Sleepless nights and constant travel played havoc with their appetite. His appearance had also taken a beating. He’d not touched his hair in the past year, so the scraggly ends now brushed his shoulders. The duster had been left back at the Hyperion with Gunn, Lorne, and Fred, the three keeping an eye on things there while the rest went with him and Angel to track down the Slayer. The clothes he now wore were courtesy of Cordelia and her hurried shopping spree – blue jeans, plain t-shirts, and sneakers.  
  
He didn’t care what he looked like.  
  
Only finding Buffy mattered.  
  
“Well, what are we standing around here for? Let’s go find her!” Wesley announced. He grabbed the keys to the SUV and headed for the door.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Oh god… we’re not going to make it,” Cordelia whispered. She sat in the front passenger seat of the SUV. Wesley had the gas pedal buried in the floorboard, but the thick sand was keeping their forward progress to a minimum. “Hurry, Wesley,” she quietly urged. “Hurry…”  
  
Several hundred yards ahead of them, Buffy sat hunkered down near the edge of the ocean, her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared east. Towards the sun just now starting to appear on the horizon.  
  
_“Noooooo!”_  
  
In the back seat, Spike was clawing for the door handle; he’d caught a glimpse of Buffy through the front windshield. Saw firsthand how exposed she was. And the sun starting to rise. Only Angel, with his superior size and strength, was able to keep him from flinging the door open and racing to her side – and even then, he’d needed Connor’s help.  
  
“Lemme go. Lemme go. Please, Sire… Lemme go…” Spike begged. He clawed, kicked, vamped, and then sunk his fangs into Angel’s forearm. Anything to get loose and out of the vehicle. He could feel Buffy starting to burn; he had to get to her… _now_.  
  
Angel was impervious to the attacks of his childe. He could smell the salty tang of Spike’s tears, and could feel his own eyes become unnaturally moist. To be so close, only to have it come to this. “Wesley…” he growled when Spike renewed his efforts to get free.  
  
“I’m trying…”  
  
_Burning. Burning. Burning_ … Spike could practically smell Buffy’s flesh disintegrate into ash. And she _wanted_ it. He could feel it. She _wanted_ it to be over. Wanted to stop hurting. Pain, white hot along her nerve endings. Then… nothing.  
  
Their connection was severed.  
  
Like a light switch had been thrown, Spike collapsed onto Angel, near catatonic. His eyes were open and unfocused; deep blue eyes seemed lifeless, dull. His lips were slightly parted. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe.  
  
Angel clutched Spike to his chest. The tears he’d held at bay fell freely now. He moaned – a low keening wail that went through each of the humans in the SUV.  
  
Buffy was gone, and by all appearances, Spike wasn’t too far behind.  
  
_Alone again_.  
  
Not even his son’s comforting hand on his shoulder as he sat in the row behind him was enough to pull him from his misery.  
  
“Oh my god…” Cordelia stared transfixed at the green energy that wrapped itself around Buffy, keeping her from harm. “Wes, are you…? Do you see…?”  
  
“Uh huh… I… it’s… unbelievable…” His foot lifted slightly from the gas pedal as his awe at the sight before him pulled at his concentration. At least until Cordelia reached over and whacked him on the shoulder to get him moving.  
  
“Angel… look! It’s Buffy! She’s… she’s alive, Angel. Something’s protecting her. She’s not dusting.” Cordelia managed to tear her eyes away from Buffy and the green energy surrounding her to look in the back seat. Angel was huddled over Spike, rocking him back and forth, his face mere inches from the other vamp’s.  
  
He’d apparently not heard a word she’d said.  
  
“Angel? Angel?” She reached back and gently shook his knee. She didn’t recoil at his sudden growl, or that he’d barred his fangs at her. Her heart nearly broke at the anguished look on his face that not even the demon could hide. “Angel,” she called out in her most soothing voice. “Buffy’s not dead. She’s being protected somehow… Look…”  
  
It was another few moments before her words seemed to penetrate, and by then, Wesley had reached Buffy and stopped about ten feet in front of her. Cordelia sat back, allowing Angel an unobstructed view of Buffy out the front windshield. “See? She’s okay…”  
  
Angel stared at Buffy curled in a fetal position on the beach, crying. His nostrils flared, the demon slowly processing what his eyes were telling him. Buffy was alive. Spike’s mate was alive.  
  
_Spike._  
  
He tore his gaze away from the Slayer and returned his attention to the vampire he held in his arms.  
  
“Will…” he called softly, trying to break into his childe’s trance. “Will…”  
  
Spike didn’t respond, didn’t even twitch.  
  
“Will… wake up. Buffy dinna die. Please, Will…”  
  
Not even a flicker that he’d heard.  
  
“Cordy…?”  
  
Cordelia nodded, understanding Angel’s unasked question. She looked at Connor, who was seated in the back row of the SUV. “Can you help me, Connor?”  
  
The two stepped carefully from the vehicle, conscious of the two vampires, and slowly approached the swirling mist surrounding the Slayer.  
  
“Wait here, mom,” Connor told Cordelia, and while she was fuming at the moniker, hands on hips and ready to light into him about her being nowhere _near_ old enough to be his mother, Connor stepped forward and was instantly enveloped by the green energy. He held his breath, waiting to feel… _something_ – his spleen ripped out through his nose, a crushing chest injury, sudden oxygen deprivation. All he got was a cool tingling sensation that swept him from head to toe and quickly settled into a soothing warmth.  
  
He took that to mean he’d passed muster and knelt carefully next to Buffy.  
  
Connor had a vague recollection of what the Slayer looked like. He’d only seen her that one time right before the gang had left to deal with Illyria. The girl before him looked nothing like her. She looked dead, and not given that she was a vampire either. Skin stretched tight over sharp features. Her eyes were sunken. Her hair, lackluster, a dull dingy brown. The clothes she wore came straight out of Hobos-R-Us, and the brief assessment he took told him they probably hung on her slight frame.  
  
She was still crying, completely unaware of his presence. Huge wracking sobs that appeared to tear at her soul. Carefully, so as not to startle her, he fitted his arms beneath her neck and knees and picked her up. He made his way back to the SUV, pleased at seeing the green mist shadow his movements – to the point where it even followed him back inside the vehicle.  
  
Angel had managed to get him and Spike into the back row so that Connor could easily slide into the middle seat with the Slayer. When he was in, the door shut by Cordelia, and she back in the front passenger seat, the mist stretched to encompass them all within the interior of the SUV, treating everyone to its calming presence. Smiles graced the lips of those conscious; Buffy continued to cry softly, while Spike was locked away in his trance.  
  
It was a quiet ride back to the hotel.


	18. Chapter 18

Wesley pulled the SUV into one of the closest parking spaces he could find near their motel room and put it in park. He sat there along with Cordelia eyeing the huge expanse of sunlight that was between them and the front door, wondering how he was going to get one physically and mentally drained vamp, along with two other nearly non-responsive vamps, inside without having to borrow a broom and dustpan from housekeeping.  
  
“They’ll never make it,” Cordelia voiced what Wesley was thinking.  
  
“Not without a little divine intervention…”  
  
“It’s either that, or you drive the car up on the sidewalk for curbside delivery.”  
  
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s a viable solution to our problem. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves.”  
  
“Well… duh!”  
  
“Uh… guys?” Connor murmured. “Why not just let the green stuff do all the work?” He flushed slightly at the sudden rush of heat that permeated his body. If he didn’t know any better, the energy could actually understand what he was saying.  
  
_Too many years spent in Quor-toth. Imagination is running away with me._  
  
Cordelia shrugged her shoulders at the ex-watcher.  
  
“He’s got a point. It did enable him to get Buffy back in the car… _and_ it’s still here,” she reasoned. “Okay. Let’s go. But at the first sign this stuff doesn’t follow us, you’re back in the car. Got it, mister?”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
Cordelia opened her door and got out, then opened the door to the back. Connor scooted over on the seat, closer to where she stood and finally stepped out. He had a bit of trouble getting out, thanks to the Slayer and her dead weight, but he didn’t drop her. The mist followed him, he was pleased to see, and he debated a minute as to whether he should chance going ahead by himself and coming back for his father and Spike, or whether the four of them should all go at once.  
  
“Uh… dad? I think maybe you should come with me. I’m not sure if I can coax this stuff to come back for you.”  
  
Angel was knocked out of his silent ruminations at his son’s words.  
  
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Let me see if I can get the two of us out of the back row.”  
  
It took some serious maneuvering on his part, but Angel finally managed to step out of the vehicle next to Connor. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief that he’d not dusted the second he cleared the door and stepped out into the sun.  
  
“Let’s take this slow,” he told Connor. “Stick close to me. And if I tell you to run… _run_.”  
  
The twenty yards from where the SUV was parked to their front door could have easily been twenty miles. Angel could feel his demon practically clawing at his insides, urging him to seek shelter, and fast, as he matched his son step for step towards the safety the motel room provided. He was almost grateful of Spike and Buffy’s listless states, and that neither vampire was aware of what was happening at the moment; it was bad enough that he did, and it was something he’d not soon forget. Even though he’d gotten used to seeing the sun rise from within the protected glass of Wolfram  & Hart, actually being outside during the light of day was another matter entirely.  
  
_Ten steps. Five…_  
  
Cordelia held the door open as Angel and Connor stepped inside. The green mist never wavered once in protecting them along the way. Much like it had in the SUV, it drew back from the four and expanded to encompass the entire room.  
  
Angel crossed to one of the two queen beds and laid Spike out on top of the covers, then directed Connor to lay Buffy next to him. He watched as she immediately curled into Spike’s side and noticed how it had absolutely no effect on Spike whatsoever. Weary beyond belief, he backed up and sat down on the other bed. He felt Cordelia wrap her arms around him and he allowed himself to be drawn back onto the pillows and held.  
  
Wesley sank gratefully onto the couch and was asleep in a matter of minutes. He’d been up for well over twenty-four hours and the adrenaline that had kept him going, kept them _all_ going, was rapidly wearing off now that they had Buffy back. His body was telling him to sleep, and for once, he listened.  
  
Connor silently grumbled about drawing the short straw of sleeping on the floor. Though he had to admit, he’d slept in worse places before, and the carpet at least gave him a bit of cushion. Snagging one of the unused pillows from the bed Cordelia and his father were sharing, he laid down on the floor close to the heavily-curtained window. He closed his eyes and willed his body to sleep, at the same time conditioning himself to pick up the noises going on outside the room; if someone tried to surprise them, they were going to be in for a rude awakening.  
  
Angel lay unmoving as, one by one, the heart rates and breathing patterns in the room slowed and leveled out – indicating each one’s slumber. He waited a few minutes more before brushing his lips across Cordelia’s forehead and carefully extracting himself from her embrace. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay in bed with her. But right now, Spike needed him. Buffy needed him. Together the two of them had to work at bringing Spike back.  
  
He quietly moved from one bed to the other and stared down at his childe. Spike hadn’t moved from where he’d placed him – lying on his back on top of the covers. What worried Angel the most, not that Spike’s unnatural stillness and paler than normal coloring wasn’t enough to send him into full brood mode, was that Spike wasn’t even breathing. Spike _always_ breathed when he slept. It was a habit that not even Angelus had been able to beat out of him. Though, truth be told, his heart hadn’t really been in it all those times he’d tried to make Spike stop; the lulling cadence of the younger vamp’s deep, even breathing was a surefire way to get him to fall asleep whenever he was too wired to do so otherwise. There’d been times in his pre-soul days that he would walk into the room Spike shared with Drusilla and wake him from a sound sleep – usually with a sharp cuff to the head – complaining that his monotonous breathing had kept him awake and it was now Spike’s job to fix it. Then he would drag him off to a vacant bedroom, his childe hissing invectives the entire way.  
  
It was only in the privacy of the bedroom that Angelus would relax his stranglehold on Spike’s neck.  
  
“Can’t sleep, Sire?” Spike would smirk. He’d utter an appropriate retort, then throw Spike on the bed and climb in behind him. Sometimes Spike would drift back off to sleep immediately – particularly after a good hunt. Other times…  
  
Angel physically shook himself, abruptly terminating those particular memories, and returned his attention to the pair lying on the bed in front of him.  
  
As he took note of Spike’s gaunt features, he knew he’d pay anything, _anything_ , just to see that chest rise and fall with the vamp’s unnatural breathing. He stood there for several minutes watching the two before toeing off his shoes and climbing on the bed to settle himself on the other side of Spike.  
  
He lay as close as he could get to Spike without actually touching him, at least for now. Above him, the green mist swirled slightly. He’d yet to figure out what, exactly, the stuff was, what it was trying to accomplish. Or why it was even still there. He did know that it wasn’t evil. That it wasn’t bent on causing them harm.  
  
It had saved Buffy, after all. Him and Spike, as well, once they’d gotten back to the motel. He pondered possible explanations for its sudden appearance for a while before finally giving up. His exhaustion was making itself known, his thoughts becoming more and more jumbled. He’d have to think about the whys later today, after he’d had at least a few hours’ sleep. For all he knew, it would be gone once he woke.  
  
And, if not, he’d worry about it then. Maybe even enlist Giles’ assistance in dealing with it.  
  
_Which reminds me. I need to call him when I wake up. Let him know that Buffy has been found. ___  
  
Angel closed his eyes and curled on his side, draping one arm over Spike’s middle. Confident that things would resolve themselves once he woke, he gave into his fatigue and slept.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dawn, or as much as the green swirling entity could _be_ Dawn in her current state, looked upon the three vampires sleeping peacefully on the bed. They looked right together, like a family. Not that the others in the room weren’t to some degree, but the three on the bed were going to be together long after the humans in the room were dead and buried.  
  
She’d had to go through thousands of dimensions to get back to Earth and it had taken her far longer than the year of Buffy’s self-imposed exile. Not for the first time did she wish that time moved the same in every dimension; if so, she would have been back a lot sooner. Seeing the type of relationship Angel now had with Spike, maybe it was a good thing it _had_ taken her so long.  
  
Her gaze flicked briefly over the other occupants of the room before settling on the boy sprawled on the floor sound asleep, a pillow the only thing giving him a bit of cushion from the concrete slab and thin carpet overlay. He was cute. _Very_ cute. And a warrior, a _protector_ , through and through, she couldn’t help but notice. She’d seen how he’d distracted Cordelia from getting too close to Buffy when he thought that she might be a danger to her. How he’d taken a short, determined breath and forged ahead into the mist – into _her_. Knowing that he could have been killed, but going anyway.  
  
His goodness had felt so… _awesome_ … as it washed over her. Perfect even. _Match_ , her mind had screamed at the time, and she’d unconsciously treated his body to a momentary flood of warmth before getting herself on an even keel.  
  
Once the others figured out how to bring her back to her corporeal self, she was _so_ getting to know him, whoever he might be.  
  
For now, she settled in to wait.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy woke and frowned when she realized she was on the hard ground, surrounded by trees. The sound of a child’s laughter drifted on the wind and she reluctantly pushed her way to her feet. Ignoring the leaves and bits of dirt that clung to her dress, she started through the woods towards the noise and soon came to a clearing – a pretty field of green grass and waist-high flowers, lots and lots of flowers in an array of colors.  
  
The girl was young, perhaps four or five, and cute as a button. Her skin was darker than average, like she was of mixed ethnicity; her hair was long, dark too.  
  
_She has her mother’s hair._  
  
She started when she realized who it was that she was staring at. A second later, her suspicions were confirmed when Faith emerged from the forest not far from where she’d exited herself.  
  
“Faith? What are you doing here?” Buffy asked once she was close enough to hear. Off to the side, the girl continued to frolic in the field, paying no attention to either woman.  
  
“That’s supposed to be my line, B. It’s my dream. You’re Obi Wan Kenobi now, so make with the vague and tell me why you’re here.”  
  
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I thought— _Should_ I know?”  
  
Faith snorted. “You’re askin’ me?”  
  
The two lapsed into silence, and by some unspoken command, turned to watch the girl playing before them.  
  
“She’s beautiful,” Buffy commented.  
  
“Yeah… she is.”  
  
“I don’t remember her being that big.”  
  
“She’s not… not really.”  
  
“What did you name her?”  
  
“Nicole.”  
  
“It’s a nice name.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“She looks a lot like Robin.”  
  
“Yeah, but she has my temperament.”  
  
“Stubborn?”  
  
“Girl, you don’t know the half of it. But Robin keeps her in line. She’s like putty in his hands.”  
  
“Just like mommy.”  
  
The slayers shared a secret smile.  
  
“I felt you, you know,” Faith commented after a time. “Just after she was born.”  
  
“I tried…” Buffy wanted to tell her that she’d tried not to make her presence known. She’d not wanted to put Faith in the awkward position of knowing where she was, but not telling the others. “I wasn’t going to come. But, it was like something was pulling me to Cleveland. I’m surprised the others didn’t guess.”  
  
“They did… _eventually_. I think they showed up a few days after you’d left. Then I kept them close for a few days. Used the baby’s birth and the fact that I’d not seen them since LA to keep them there.”  
  
“You didn’t have to do that, Faith.”  
  
“Figured you weren’t ready to go home yet.”  
  
“No, I wasn’t.”  
  
“Are you ready now?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Buffy whispered, ashamed.  
  
“Dawn wasn’t your fault, B. And, if you want to get technical, the girl _was_ only a key. Some green mist, or vapor, or whatever. Made flesh thanks to a spell of a few monks.”  
  
“But she was my flesh… Summers flesh. Faith—”  
  
“Did you ever stop to think that there was a reason it happened to Dawn and not one of the others?”  
  
“Yes. Me. I was the reason it was Dawn.”  
  
“How do you figure?”  
  
“Lorne told me.”  
  
“Uh huh. And he never makes a mistake? Maybe it was _supposed_ to be Dawn all along. If it were to happen to someone else— Buffy, you have to let it go.”  
  
“You sound just like Cordelia. In fact, I think she said the exact same to me about something else.”  
  
“Smart girl,” Faith muttered and earned herself a glare from Buffy. She smiled, throwing Buffy off-kilter. “Well, in this particular instance, I’ll take that as a compliment. Cheerleader’s not bad, if you ignore the whole ‘princess’ thing she’s got going. You know she’s banging Angel, right?”  
  
“Faith!” Buffy’s face screwed up and she made a yuck sound.  
  
“It’s true.”  
  
“T. M. I., Faith. TMI!”  
  
“Though, I’ve got to wonder about Spike and Angel.”  
  
“What about Spike and Angel?”  
  
“Come on, B. You don’t think those two have never done the nasty before, do you? Have you _seen_ those two together? Repression, say it with me.”  
  
“Umm… okay. And how did we get onto this topic anyway?”  
  
“Simple, B. We’re not gonna be around forever. You are. Spike and Angel are. At least until you all meet the business end of a pointy stick, and even then I’ve got my doubts. The Powers like their champions, so I’ve no doubt they’ll find a way to keep you three around.”  
  
Buffy nodded. All three of them had been brought back from death at least once.  
  
“Anyway… What I’m trying to say is, we’re your family, B. But we’re your _human_ family. We’re all gonna die eventually. If we’re lucky, not for a good long while. I’d like to think that me and Robin are still hittin’ it when we’re old and gray.”  
  
“Ugh… Faith.” Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
“It’s good to see that vampire in you hasn’t squashed your prudish tendencies,” Faith smirked.  
  
“I’m not a prude. Spike could probably show Robin a thing or two about—”  
  
“Really? I’ll have to remember to get those boys to talk.”  
  
“Faith, you’re incorrigible.”  
  
“Don’t I know it!”  
  
Buffy shook her head and rolled her eyes.  
  
“Just you wait. Nicole’s gonna be sixteen one day.”  
  
“At which point, I’ll have Robin lock her away. Or I can have her uncles Angel and Spike warn all the boys away. Girl’s gonna be a virgin when she gets married, or my name’s not Faith!”  
  
Buffy laughed, and it mingled with the girl’s laughter, until it died abruptly. Her head swung sharply to the left, and sure enough, Nicole had disappeared.  
  
“Damn Slayer dreams,” Faith grumbled. “Least I got to see what my baby’s gonna grow up to look like.”  
  
“There is that,” Buffy agreed. “Everything else about these things suck.”  
  
By mutual agreement, the two started walking again. The day gave way to night and it got steadily colder. Buffy should have been impervious to the temperature change, but for some reason she felt it – the sharp sting of ice digging into her back.  
  
“You’ve got some serious ass-kissing to do,” Faith mentioned out of the blue. “Spike’s had a rough time of it this past year. They all have.”  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
“I could feel it when I finally let him in, though I could tell he tried to hide it from me.”  
  
“You hurt him, B. Bad. He’s your mate, your Sire, and you cut him off. It’s a good thing he loves you so much. You’ve gotta stop running every time something gets too hard to deal with.”  
  
“Oh, and you’re a model of ‘let’s stay and talk this out’?”  
  
“I’ve learned from my mistakes. Robin and I have our share of differences, but we talk and we make the decision together.”  
  
Faith laid a reassuring hand on Buffy’s shoulder.  
  
“Don’t you think it’s time to trust Spike to be able to help you? He’s not like Angel. He won’t make the decision for you. He’ll make it _with_ you.”  
  
“I know. I don’t deserve him, Faith. He’s always there for me, even after I push him away.”  
  
“No, Buffy, what you don’t deserve are all of these hard knocks thrown your way, and when it’s my time, I fully plan on having a word with these so-called Powers. Nothing like making it difficult for their champions. Makes you wonder what side they’re playing for, doesn’t it?”  
  
“So what do I do?”  
  
“You’re the _Slayer_ , B. You’re the one that’s supposed to make with the cryptic advice. Ask yourself what you should do.”  
  
“We should talk.”  
  
“Well… _yeah_. No-brainer there.”  
  
As the two continued to walk, a path materialized out of nothing. It was so cold now that their teeth had begun to chatter.  
  
“Why is it so cold?” Buffy asked, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms in an attempt to get warm.  
  
“We’re getting closer.”  
  
“Closer? Closer to what?”  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
“ _Now_ who’s making with the cryptic?” Buffy complained.  
  
“It’s only fair.”  
  
The path disappeared, and in its place was a long hallway. Doors lined either side and seemed to stretch for miles in the distance. Faith stopped and gestured for Buffy to continue.  
  
“What? Am I supposed to try them all? I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to get back to Spike and apologize.”  
  
“That’s the thing, B. You’ve got to find him first.”


	19. Chapter 19

“What do you mean, _find_ him? Where is he?”  
  
“Sorry, B. Can’t tell you any more than I already have. You know how these things work.”  
  
“Faith!”  
  
Faith walked backwards, away from where Buffy stood at the entrance to the hallway, remorseful eyes never leaving Buffy’s face.  
  
“Faith! What do you mean? Where _is_ he?” Buffy started after Faith, determined to get the girl to tell her what was going on. “ _Faith_!”  
  
“Time to wake up, B.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy woke with a gasp, her chest heaving from panic caused by her slayer dream. She sat up quickly, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The last thing she remembered was being on the beach just as the sun started to rise. She’d felt her skin begin to burn and flake, and then… nothing.  
  
It was dark inside the room, though there was a faint green cast about the place. She dismissed it out of hand, her mind only on Spike. Her hand encountered something hard and she turned to see Spike stretched out on his back beside her, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. She released a shaky breath. Faith hadn’t known what she was talking about, Spike was right there next to her.  
  
And so was Angel. Curled on the other side of her mate with one arm draped across Spike’s stomach. Faith’s words came back to Buffy and her mind glazed over with images of the two of them… _together_. She would have blushed if she could but it had been a while since she’d last fed.  
  
She realized what it was that had woken her.  
  
She was hungry. _Really_ hungry.  
  
It had been a few days since she’d fed, it being the last thing on her mind once deciding to greet the sun. The sounds of the three distinctly human heartbeats in the room had intruded on her utter exhaustion, pulling her from the restorative slumber she’d so desperately needed.  
  
She bit her lip and inadvertently drew blood when her fangs sliced into her bottom lip, not realizing how close to the edge her demon was, that she’d shifted sometime in her sleep – which was why the slow, steady _thump thump thump_ sounded like canons going off in her ears. The smell of her own blood only made her hungrier. She had to get out of the room before she did something she would regret. Gone an entire year, and her first day back she’s taking a bite out of her friends. _Yeah, so not good._  
  
A hand closing about her wrist prevented her from leaving, however. She turned back to see Angel, eyes open and staring at her intently, nostrils flaring, no doubt from the scent of her blood on the air.  
  
“Where are you going?” His voice was barely above a whisper, intended only for her ears.  
  
“I’m hungry. Their… the noise… it’s getting to me. Angel, I’ve got to get out of here… before I…”  
  
“Lay back down next to Spike. He needs to know you’re still here, and still alive. If you leave right now, he may not come back.”  
  
“Come back? Angel, he’s right here.”  
  
“He may be here in the physical sense, but he’s willing himself to die, Buffy.”  
  
“Die? Why?”  
  
“He thinks you dusted. He doesn’t want to live.”  
  
“But I didn’t…” She crawled back up on the bed and settled next to Spike. Her hand lifted to trail over his face. He didn’t react in any way to her gentle caress. It was like she’d not touched him at all… like she wasn’t even there. “I did this,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “I did this, didn’t I?”  
  
Angel sighed at seeing the effect Spike’s lack of reaction was having on her.  
  
“It’ll be okay, Buffy. Spike just needs to realize you’re here. He needs you close. Then he’ll come back. You just need to stay with him.”  
  
Buffy nodded and curled up next to Spike, so close that no one would be able to tell where she ended and Spike began. She tamped down her hunger, exerted her will over the demon, ignored the loud heartbeats resounding in her ears; she’d feed later, once Spike was back.  
  
And for once the demon was in full accord.  
  
Nothing mattered but her Sire.  
  
“Here.”  
  
Angel held out his wrist.  
  
Buffy ignored him and his offering.  
  
“Buffy, you need to feed. Your senses are too heightened with your demon prevalent,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear. “You need to change back. Here.”  
  
“I’ll be alright,” she argued back, her voice equally low.  
  
“No you won’t. You’re skin and bones as it is. Besides, it’s probably going to take your blood to wake Spike. If you don’t have any to give him…” His voice trailed off; he knew it was the only argument he could give to make her feed from him. The girl took stubborn to a whole new level.  
  
He had to force himself to hide his smug grin when she took his hand and bit his wrist without preamble.  
  
Yes, he knew his girl well…  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Once she started, Buffy couldn’t seem to stop. Her fangs tapped into Angel’s vein and she drew harshly at the blood stored within. He tasted like fine wine after a year spent living on water, and she wanted to gorge herself on it.  
  
Bleed him dry.  
  
She growled low in her throat and heard an answering one in him. Not a warning, more like an encouragement to take as much as she wanted, as much as she _needed_. And she was tempted. Boy was she tempted. Familial blood rated right up there with Sire blood and Slayer blood.  
  
But they already had one non-responsive vamp. She didn’t need to compound matters and add a second. After one final pull, Buffy forced herself to stop and she licked at the twin holes she made before releasing his hand.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“No problem. Once the others wake up, I’ll send them out for some more blood.”  
  
Buffy nodded and settled herself next to Spike.  
  
“He’s going to be alright, isn’t he, Angel?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered some time later. Neither of them was asleep yet.  
  
Angel’s brows drew together, and he looked over Spike at Buffy. The worry on her face was palpable. Finally, he sighed and told her, “I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to.”  
  
“Yes you are. And not just you, either. I owe everyone an apology. Spike especially.” Her hand lifted to caress her mate’s ashen cheek. “I… I didn’t stop to think how my leaving would affect anyone else.”  
  
Angel grunted, but neither confirmed nor denied Buffy’s statement.  
  
“Go back to sleep, Buffy,” he sighed and laid his head back upon the pillow. “You’re tired. Hell, we’re all tired.”  
  
Buffy murmured her compliance, curling herself even closer to her mate, but she didn’t sleep. She _couldn’t_ sleep. To sleep was to dream, and she didn’t want to face what she might find locked away in her subconscious. The self-recriminations that were already too much to deal with in her wakened state.  
  
She heard Angel settle down on the other side of Spike and go deathly still, indicating he’d drifted off once more.  
  
_Finally._  
  
She didn’t need him standing over her proverbial shoulder, waiting for her to do as he’d said. He would have too, _if_ he’d not been depleted of a good portion of his blood supply – she knew Angel very well, after all. She made a mental note to have him drink a few of her human blood bags she’d have the others acquire for her later to help him regain his strength. The whole animal thing was getting old. If she had to do it, he could too.  
  
Besides, she was going to need him. She and Spike both were going to need him.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The hallway was just like she’d left it and she wrapped her hands around her upper arms and gave each one a vigorous rub, trying to ward off the chill. It didn’t do any good; if anything, the temperature seemed to drop a few more degrees.  
  
“Spike?” she called out, her voice low and hesitant as she started towards the first of many doors.  
  
The knob turned easily enough in her hands and Buffy let herself into the room. It was pitch black inside, and even with her enhanced senses, if she’d not had the light from the hallway to guide her, she would not have been able to find her way out.  
  
“Spike?” she called out again even though she knew he wasn’t in the room with her. She didn’t feel him, didn’t _sense_ him close by. She didn’t sense him at all, now that she thought about it. The only reason she knew he was there – _somewhere_ – was because she was back in another Slayer dream. Frustrated, she backed out of the room and started down the hall towards the next door, and the next room.  
  
Over and over it went; she lost count of the number of doors she tried. Each one she encountered yielded the same results – an empty room and no sign of Spike anywhere. But she knew she was getting close. It was so cold now that, if she’d been human, she would have been in serious jeopardy of hypothermia. Still, even as a vampire, she was feeling the cold. It seeped into her skin going bone deep. Every step she took now hurt like hell.  
  
She wasn’t giving up though. Spike was in one of those rooms willing himself to die. It was her job to bring him back. Make him realize that she’d not left him. That she’d not died.  
  
A sudden stab of pain near the vicinity of her heart had her screaming Spike’s name and tearing through door after door in an attempt to try and reach him in time. He was getting weaker and she could feel him slipping away. The bond they shared fainter somehow. She started crying at some point, perhaps when her frantic cries of her mate’s name met with no response and each new door seemed to get her no closer to him.  
  
When the next door opened and she was nearly blinded by the light, Buffy knew her jaw was probably scraping the ground.  
  
“Spike?” she called out, spying a figure some distance away, his back to her and staring up at the sun.  
  
He turned, and she knew right away that it was he – she would know his smile anywhere.  
  
“I knew if I tried hard enough I’d find you,” he murmured against her neck when Buffy flew across the space and flung herself into his arms. “Shhh. Don’t cry, luv. We’re together again. Though gotta say, figured it’d be a bit quicker than it was. Thought that was the whole bloody point of bein’ mated. One goes, the other’s not far behind. Quick-like, ya know?”  
  
Crying as hard as she was, it took a while before the meaning behind Spike’s words made any kind of sense. When they did, she forced herself to pull back and look up at him.  
  
“I didn’t die, Spike. I’m still alive,” she told him. “This is a dream. You need to wake up now.”  
  
Spike was shaking his head before she even finished. He stepped away from Buffy and turned back to the sun.  
  
“I like it here. Been a long time since I’ve felt the sun on m’ face. No way that could happen if I was still a vampire.”  
  
“I told you, Spike. It’s a dream. You’re dreaming. Actually, you’re willing yourself to die. And you need to _stop_.”  
  
She stepped in front of him and forced him to meet her gaze.  
  
“You need to come back to me. Please, Spike. Come back to me.”  
  
“You’re right here, luv. What do I need to go back for?”  
  
“I’m not really here. I’m just— Truthfully, I don’t know _what_ I am. What I _do_ know is that this isn’t real. This _place_ isn’t real. We’re not real. If we stay here, we’re both going to die. And it’s not something either one of us will be able to come back from.”  
  
“You’re scared. It’s okay, luv. Takes some getting used to, yeah? But, I’ll look out for you. Promise.”  
  
“It’s not this place that scares me, it’s your wanting to stay here that does. Spike, this place isn’t real. It’s a product of your imagination. Something you created because you think I’m dead. But I’m not… dead, that is. Well, I am, but not like that. Something saved me, prevented me from dusting.”  
  
Spike gave her an indulgent smile and Buffy could feel the scream that wanted to break free. Damn stubborn vampire.  
  
Finally she gripped his hair on either side of his head. Hard.  
  
“Listen, buster,” she practically growled as she brought him to eye level. “Wake up! Now! We’re not staying here. We’re gonna wake up and say hello to our friends. Then I’m gonna apologize to them… and to you. Afterwards, we’re gonna go back to Los Angeles and I’m gonna spend the next hundred years making things up to you.”  
  
Remembering what Angel had told her, how it was probably going to take her blood to wake him, she pulled back and quickly gouged her wrist against her fang.  
  
“Come on, Spike. I’m sure you’ve got to be hungry.” She grinned at seeing his eyes fasten on her bleeding hand and she waved it back and forth. _And he says he’s not a vampire any longer._ “A bit of Slayer blood to take the aches away? You know you wanna…”  
  
Buffy tilted her head to the side and smeared her neck with the blood pooling on her wrist.  
  
The bite, when it came, startled a gasp out of her, but she relaxed into it. Into him.  
  
_Sire…_  
  
His arms wrapped around her back and then he was crushing her up against him, driving his fangs deeper. Drinking her down. Huge swallows that drained her fast – just like Angel had said. She closed her eyes and allowed Spike to take whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. Anything to get him to come back to her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Angel woke at hearing Buffy’s indrawn breath. His eyes opened and he sat up slightly, supporting his weight on his elbow. Spike lay practically atop Buffy, drinking steadily. A quick glance around the room revealed that it was empty – save for the three of them. He must have been more tired than he thought if Cordelia, Wes, _and_ his son could sneak out of the room without his notice. Buffy’s protective mist was also conspicuously absent.  
  
Still, it was good that they were gone. Too bad he couldn’t leave too. He didn’t want to be around when their bloodplay regressed to other, more private, activities.  
  
Maybe the two would wake up out of whatever trance they seemed to be locked in and spare him being scarred for the rest of his unlife.


	20. Chapter 20

As the seconds ticked by and Spike showed no signs in the slightest of slowing his ravenous feeding – or waking – Angel began to frown. Buffy was awake beneath him; her eyes were closed and her lips were pursed from the pain of Spike’s bite. But she’d yet to throw him off. And showed no signs of doing it, either.  
  
At the rate Spike was going, he’d have Buffy drained dry in minutes.  
  
Angel slashed his wrist with his fangs and shoved it in front of Buffy’s mouth, and for once she didn’t argue, the demon in her desperate to replace the blood that was being taken in vast quantities by her sire.  
  
Another minute passed with Angel getting steadily weaker and there was _still_ no sign of recognition on Spike’s behalf. It was instinctive, him taking Spike’s hand from where it gripped Buffy’s hair and bringing it to his own mouth, sinking his fangs into the underside of his pale wrist.  
  
Blood spilled onto his tongue, and Angel couldn’t help but moan in pleasure at the taste. Spike and Buffy… and him. Mixing together to create one distinct flavor. His family.  
  
They lay there for some time, each drinking from another, until ever so slowly, Spike began to come back to himself. Instinctively, the three tapered off, then stopped altogether. Slowly retracting their fangs and lapping at the marks each had made.  
  
Angel watched as Buffy’s eyes slowly fluttered open and Spike lifted his head. Witnessed the emotion that held his childe in thrall as he gazed down at Buffy, scarcely able to believe she was there with them, and how Spike sought his own gaze for confirmation. And Angel smiled. Yes, it wasn’t a dream. Buffy was really here with them.  
  
Sounds of a key being inserted into the lock prevented them from saying anything.  
  
Angel reluctantly pulled away and got off the bed and Spike managed to roll to his side and spoon himself up against Buffy as the door opened and Wes, followed by Cordelia and Connor – who was looking a tad embarrassed by the green mist that seemed to cling to him like a second skin – stepped inside.  
  
“We’ve brought blood,” Wes announced by way of greeting, setting the cooler on the small table as Connor shut the door.  
  
Angel had moved to the other bed and Cordelia joined him there, curling up against his side and laying her head against his shoulder. She smiled slightly at both Spike and Buffy.  
  
“Hey, Buffy. Spike, welcome back,” she murmured, gifting Angel with a smile of his own as his arm slide around her shoulder and drew her close.  
  
It had been tough waking to find herself alone in bed and Angel curled up next to Spike on the other one. But seeing the contented look upon his face just now, absent since Buffy’s abrupt departure and Spike’s mental withdrawal, and the fact that he seemed to want her there next to him… it made it easier for her to handle the initial jealousy she felt upon spying the three sleeping so peacefully on the bed. “You alright?” she whispered as he brushed his lips across her temple.  
  
“I am now…”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was a tired group that finally let themselves into the Hyperion Hotel three nights later. Fred was up, having received a phone call from Wesley a few hours earlier, and hurried forward to be enveloped by the arms of her lover. Everyone that followed in his wake gave the pair a bemused eye roll and half-hearted hello to the girl now locking lips with Wesley as they stepped around the two and walked further into the lobby.  
  
Connor didn’t bother to hang around; throwing a hasty “goodnight” over his shoulder, he hurried up the staircase – the pinkened cheeks proclaiming his ongoing embarrassment hidden by the green mist-like energy that was never far from his side. The situation would have been cause for much ribbing by the others, especially Spike, but everyone was too worn out to do nothing more than speculate about the strange entity. Which was why the group had rode straight through, driving in shifts, rather than taking a more leisurely route home.  
  
There was something not quite right about the mist that, since saving Buffy from combusting, had figuratively glued itself to the boy’s side. Research was in order, and what resources they needed were back in Los Angeles.  
  
Buffy stared hard at the departing boy’s back as he strode swiftly down the darkened hallway of the second floor and disappeared from sight; it took Spike nudging her before she forcibly shook herself and returned her attention to the small group now gathered in the lobby. She frowned slightly, knowing that she was forgetting something.  
  
“What’s wrong, luv?” Spike whispered in her ear.  
  
Buffy cast another look at the deserted hallway before finally shaking her head. She couldn’t remember, but knew it would come to her eventually. “I… it’s nothing…” Another shake and she dismissed it from her mind. To dwell on it would only make the thought linger in her subconscious. Better to forget about it completely. Let the memory resurface naturally.  
  
“You’re tired. Why don’t we go up to bed?”  
  
She didn’t offer any protest as Spike led her toward the stairs. Even though it was the middle of the night, she’d yet to sleep properly, and she was tired. The thought of snuggling next to her mate – in a bed, no less – was too good an idea to pass up.  
  
Everyone else was of the same opinion, and weren’t far behind the two in seeking their own rooms.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“I swear, B., I’m gonna start chargin’ admission.”  
  
“Well, I guess that answers my question of ‘your place or mine,’” Buffy grinned.  
  
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were in for another apocalypse or something, what with all these joint dreams we’re having. And, lemme tell you right now, you can count me out. I’m on vacation.”  
  
Buffy snorted at Faith’s disgruntled look. “Like Robin would let you get three feet outside the house if you said you were needed here. He’d find a good use for those chains you’ve got hidden under your bed.”  
  
“What makes you think— Oh! Score one for the uptight vampire slayer,” Faith chuckled somewhat ruefully. “I fell right into that one, didn’t I?”  
  
Buffy tipped her head in acknowledgment. “And I’m not uptight. I’m very _not_ with the uptight.”  
  
“So, any ideas on why we’re here… again?” Faith asked, sobering. “Other than you butting into my sex life, that is?”  
  
“If I hazarded a guess, I’d say I came here to have you help me remember something.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Well if I knew that, I wouldn’t _be_ here, now would I? Or, at least I don’t think I would…”  
  
Faith quirked a brow. “Giles and Wes are the brains of the bunch. I’m just the hired muscle. Why don’t you ask them?”  
  
“Not sure. But if you’re here, or make that, _I’m_ here, it’s probably something that you know. Something that we _both_ know.”  
  
“Makes sense, I guess. So, where do we start?”  
  
“The last dream. Maybe going over that will help jog my memory.”  
  
“Alright.”  
  
The two sat down on a bench that seemed to mysteriously appear and went over their previous dream, bit by bit until…  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Green mist!” Buffy shouted. She bolted upright in bed, barely sparing a glance at Spike, who jumped to his feet snarling, sure that they were under attack. Grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed, she tore out of their room and down the hall.  
  
“Buffy!” Spike shouted, but she didn’t stop. “Bloody hell,” he grumbled, and snagged his jeans off the floor and pulled them on. He’d not sensed any undue anxiety from the Slayer; instead, it was more hope and certainty that he detected. Grumbling under his breath about having his sleep disturbed, he started after her.  
  
He ignored the doors opening, and a bleary-eyed Giles sputtering in indignation about having his sleep interrupted. Ignored, too, Angel who appeared at his own door frowning his displeasure at being awakened, his pants appearing to be hastily thrown on as well.  
  
“Spike? What—?”  
  
When Spike ignored him and continued a slow jog down the hallway, Angel pulled his bedroom door closed behind him and started after him, his pace unhurried. Spike didn’t appear upset or concerned. Was more aggravated than anything else as he followed behind.  
  
Then he saw where she stopped. Or rather… didn’t.  
  
Panic overtook him and he increased his pace until he was all but running to catch up to the pair. Connor. Something was wrong with Connor.  
  
Buffy burst into Connor’s room and startled the boy out of a sound sleep.  
  
Having spent his formative years in Quar’toth, Connor was awake in an instant, out of his bed and palming a weapon. Spying the blonde Slayer, looking around frantically, rather than aggressively, Connor relaxed his stance and set his weapon back on the nightstand.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyeing her warily.  
  
“Dawnie?” Buffy whispered, oblivious to the two vampires that had rushed into the room behind her and the boy still standing by the bed, eyeing her with a great deal of confusion. “Dawnie? I know it’s you. Please…” Her eyes watered, too afraid to hope. To believe that she’d not really lost her sister to Illyria.  
  
The green mist suddenly materialized in front of her and it was all Buffy could do not to break down. “It is you,” she whispered in awe, and felt the energy envelop her in a virtual-type hug. She turned then, gifting both Spike and Angel with a huge grin. “It’s Dawnie! She… I don’t know… but it’s her. And she understands me. See? We’ve got to get Giles. Wesley too.”  
  
Just then, Giles poked his head into the room.  
  
“Get me for what? Do you all know what bloody time it is?”  
  
“Giles, it’s Dawn.” Buffy indicated the green energy swirling around her. “She’s back. Only… well… not.” She frowned slightly, but it wasn’t enough to dispel her sudden good mood.  
  
“Remarkable,” Giles breathed, squinting through his glasses in an attempt to focus his blurry-eyed vision.  
  
“We’ve got to—”  
  
“Research,” Giles finished excitedly, already backing out of the room. “I’ll wake Wesley.”  
  
“Come on, luv. Watchers’ll figure this out. Let’s leave Puppy alone so he can get back to sleep.”  
  
Connor narrowed his eyes at Spike’s moniker, but for once seeing his friend’s lighthearted mood, he refrained from giving the vamp grief over it. Tomorrow though, all bets were off. He’d show Spike a thing or two. About how much he _wasn’t_ a puppy.  
  
Buffy protested, but both Angel and Spike managed to convince her that it was doubtful Dawn would go anywhere. Especially given that the mist appeared intelligent, and seemed to recognize everyone. They knew what needed to be done – find the original spell the monks had used to “make” Dawn in the first place – to bring her back. Haunting Connor’s room wouldn’t see anything accomplished, other than make for a cranky teenaged boy.  
  
It was Dawn that finally decided the matter, as if agreeing with both Angel’s and Spike’s arguments, shifting away from the Slayer to resume the spot she’d claimed as her own: hanging out on the ceiling above Connor’s pillow.  
  
When she still seemed hesitant about leaving, Spike stepped forward and looped an arm around Buffy’s waist and shepherded her towards the door. “Let’s go, Slayer. Back to bed.”  
  
Buffy whined the entire time she was led from the room, but didn’t fight Spike. The brief rush of adrenaline she’d felt upon guessing the truth had left her in a rush, leaving her overly tired. She tried to muffle a yawn, but to little effect. Truthfully, now that she’d remembered what she was supposed to, and that being reunited with her sister was literally a done deal, the adrenaline from her Slayer dream was wearing off, and she found herself extremely tired all of a sudden.  
  
Back in their room, she allowed Spike to guide her back beneath the sheets, then snuggled close once he’d climbed in next to her.  
  
“How did you know?” Spike asked, his lips brushing against her forehead.  
  
“Faith. We’ve kinda been buggin’ each other’s’ dreams the last few days.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Uh huh. Guess it’s a Slayer thing. Anyway, it was something she’d said before. How maybe it was supposed to be Dawn that Illyria took over. And that she’d been formed from energy. I didn’t make the connection before now. It was there, I just… ”  
  
“You were tired. Bloody hell, we were all tired. No sense beatin’ yourself up over it. We know now, and Giles and Wes will figure it out.” Spike kissed Buffy’s brow and gave her a hug. “Now close your eyes, luv. You’re knackered.”  
  
It didn’t take much convincing by Spike. His fingers continued to stroke the Slayer’s pale skin long after she’d drifted back to sleep.  
  
Sleep, for him, was another matter. He hoped his words wouldn’t come back and bite in him on the arse. He’d only just been reunited with his mate, and if the watchers failed to deliver…  
  
Unable to stand it any longer, he carefully extracted himself from the Slayer’s embrace and got out of bed. A few minutes later he was dressed and letting himself out of their room. Muted voices drifted up to him and he descended the stairs – Wesley and Giles were hard at work.  
  
He stopped by the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea and helped himself to a mug of blood before letting himself into Wesley’s office.  
  
“Tea?” he asked, setting the service down on a small, unused portion of the table.  
  
The two Englishmen gave him a grateful smile and both made quick work of fixing themselves a cup.  
  
“How’s it coming?”  
  
“Rather well, actually. The books Wesley managed to acquire have yielded remarkable results. I daresay we’ll have the spell located within the hour.”  
  
“Really?” Spike hadn’t thought it would be that easy. Nothing they’ve ever done in the past had been that easy.  
  
“If you want to know the truth,” Giles confided. “I think we’re being gifted with a bit of divine intervention.”  
  
“Giles is right,” Wesley confirmed at the vampire’s doubtful expression. “It’s like the books we need are at the tip of our fingers.”  
  
“Ah ha!” Giles shouted. “I’ve got it!” He frowned, trying to decipher what language the text was in. “Uh… anybody here speak Czech?”


	21. Epilogue

It was Fred, with the assistance of Wesley and Giles, who performed the ritual. Seated on the lobby’s marble floor inside the protective circle, the three began chanting. Buffy and the others watched as the green mist swirling over their heads floated down between the three and slowly took shape.  
  
“Cordy, a blanket. Quickly!” Angel hissed, having spied Dawn was evolving... without a stitch of clothing on.  
  
Cordelia hurried into the office and grabbed one off the couch and was back and ready to drape it around the girl as soon as the spell was complete.  
  
Buffy stood waiting anxiously, her hand tightly gripping Spike’s. The moment she was given the go ahead, she was crushing her sister in her arms. Crying and laughing, as were the rest of the gang.  
  
“Oomph! Buffy… gotta breathe,” Dawn protested.  
  
“Sorry. It’s just…” Buffy relaxed the stranglehold she had on her sister and stepped back. Not too far though, just in case the Powers decided to change their mind and take her away again.  
  
“I know. I missed you too. It’s taken me _forever_ to get back, I want you to know.”  
  
Dawn grinned suddenly, and Buffy eyed her with some suspicion – recognizing the gleam in her sister’s eyes. The gleam that older sisters everywhere had learned to fear.  
  
“What?” Buffy frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.  
  
“Years,” Dawn said smugly. “It took me _many_ years to find the right portal to open to get me back to Earth. Which _means_ , technically I’m older than you now. A _whole_ lot older.”  
  
“Uh huh.” Buffy’s lips twitched and she squelched the smile beginning to form, already sensing the direction of her sister’s thoughts.  
  
“So,” Dawn concluded. “No more bossing me around. You have to do what _I_ say from now on.”  
  
She stuck out her tongue and Buffy laughed then. Laughed so hard she grew weak in the knees and Spike had to latch onto her to keep her upright.  
  
“Glad you’re back, Niblet. And with your sense of mischief still intact, I see.” Spike smirked at the girl while he held Buffy against his side. “You’ve been sorely missed,” he added soberly.  
  
“I’ll second that,” Giles added.  
  
This led to more tearful hellos and celebratory back-slapping amongst the group.  
  
Until the sound of Dawn’s embarrassed shriek pierced the lobby.  
  
The three vampires winced at the decibel level the girl managed to achieve, as did the rest of the gang still gathered about – the girl had a set of lungs on her. Giles swore that his glasses were in danger of shattering.  
  
“Buffy, I’m naked!” the girl wailed, having finally noticed the only thing she wore was a blanket, and bolted for the stairs.  
  
Much to the amusement of her older sister.  
  
“She looks to be about my size,” Cordelia laughed. “I’ll track her down and get her something to wear.”  
  
“I’ll come with you,” Buffy told her.  
  
“Oh! Me too,” Fred joined in.  
  
Still chuckling off and on, the three women trailed after a mortified Dawn.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
After seeing Dawn showered and clothed, the women returned to the lobby and the others still gathered there. The place had been cleaned up and the men were lounging about either on the couch or leaning up against the counter. Though it was still dark outside – the sun had yet to rise and officially announce the morning – the group was too wired to go back to sleep.  
  
With everyone gathered in one place, Buffy took the opportunity to apologize to her friends. And her mate. It was a tearful confession, one in which none of the remaining females in the room couldn’t help but join in.  
  
When Spike snorted and was finally reduced to snagging a box of Kleenex from behind the counter due to all the sniffling going on, it lightened the somber mood… and earned him an elbow to the ribs.  
  
“I was trying to be remorseful here,” Buffy pouted. “Do you not _see_ me being remorseful?”  
  
“Bloody hell, pet. We’re not at a funeral.”  
  
“Yes!” Giles interjected. He, too, was unaccustomed to tears, and there’d been a wealth of them lately. Far more than he was able to cope with. “You’ve apologized. We’ve forgiven you.” He looked around the room to see everyone nodding, the men more vigorously than the women. Anything to bring an end to the outpouring of emotions. “Let’s move on, shall we?”  
  
“But—”  
  
“Okay!” This time it was Cordelia who interrupted, taking pity on the men of the group. “Buffy, do you promise not to ever do it again?”  
  
“Um… well, uh… yeah?”  
  
“Good. Case closed. I’m hungry. Who’s up for breakfast?”  
  
“Me!” Dawn chimed in. Then blushed when her outburst drew the attention of the boy she’d been sneaking peeks at since she’d returned to the lobby, dressed this time.  
  
“Me too,” Connor added, seeing the girl’s blush and offering a hesitant smile of his own.  
  
“Kids,” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Fred, tell me there’s food in the kitchen.”  
  
“Gunn and I went out yesterday and loaded up,” Fred confirmed.  
  
“Also got some other basic necessities,” Gunn chimed in. “Linens, _weapons_ …”  
  
“Man after my own heart there,” Spike smirked.  
  
“Well, I wasn’t sure what the game plan would be once you all got back.” Gunn looked over at Angel. “Angel?”  
  
“What are we gonna do?” Angel asked. “Fight the bad guys, of course. Only, we’re gonna do it on our terms.”  
  
“I can get behind that.”  
  
“Me too,” Wesley added.  
  
“I’m just a stone’s throw away at the club,” Lorne confirmed.  
  
“The Council’s resources are always at your disposal,” Giles told him. “And I must admit that I feel more comfortable sharing them, now that you’re out from under Wolfram & Hart’s thumb.”  
  
“We’ve slayers aplenty in Rome, Sire. We’re only a phone call away.”  
  
“Or maybe, we can relocate.” Buffy threw the idea on the table and watched both vampires stare at her. “What? It’s a good idea.”  
  
“That it is, pet. Plenty of room here to hold a dozen slayers and not have flashbacks of overflowing rooms and bathing schedules. But, Rome is your home.”  
  
“Rome hasn’t been my home in over a year. I thought home was where your heart is. Besides, with Dawn going to Stanford, we’ll be close enough when we get the inevitable call from one of her teachers…”  
  
“Hey!” Dawn protested.  
  
“You mean it?” Spike asked hopefully, his attention solely on the Slayer.  
  
Her smile said it all.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was much later when Buffy managed to get Lorne alone for a little one-on-one. Connor and Dawn were talking each other’s ear off about college and the classes they planned to take; both Spike and Angel were watching the pair like hawks given the teenagers’ instant and mutual attraction. The two were already planning a trip to the campus to see about housing accommodations.  
  
Angel and Spike were having a field day with that one, their imaginations running wild with the thought of the two teenagers alone together, far away from any parental influence. Spike had become very vocal about getting Dawn transferred to UCLA and something about a chastity belt. Much to the girl’s displeasure.  
  
Buffy had excused herself then, almost grateful at how quickly things were returning to normal.  
  
Now secluded with the empath, she was desperate to know if he’d been privy to it all.  
  
“No, Muffin. What I saw was worse. _Much_ worse.”  
  
Buffy listened in shock as Lorne told her about Fred being consumed by Illyria. How it shattered Gunn and Wes’ friendship. Then there was Angel, and how he was sinking deeper into despair, leading to a final showdown with the Senior Partners a la OK Corral. No one had survived save him, and even at that, he’d been broken thanks to what Angel had made him do.  
  
“Even with all the hurt everyone was put through, this was, by far, the better path, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
Buffy swallowed against the lump in her throat and nodded.  
  
Lorne stood and patted her hand. “Buck up, Kiddo. The past is forgotten, and it’s only a matter of time before something else claims everyone’s attention.”  
  
His words were oddly prophetic, given the sudden commotion in the lobby.  
  
Buffy rose and followed him out, her jaw dropping when she saw who was standing just inside the double doors.  
  
“Xander!”  
  
Spike was slow in reacting, allowing the boy to rush down the stairs before he could stop him. He could only watch as Xander morphed as he closed the distance between himself and the Slayer – a blur of black pelt that leapt and slammed into her chest taking her to the ground with him.  
  
“Oomph! Hey! Get off of me, you overgrown… _WOLF_!?” Her shock turned to giggles as she was treated to a thorough licking by her overzealous friend to any part of the face her hands weren’t able to cover. “Stop. Ewww! Dog cooties! Xander—”  
  
“Hi, guys!” Alaine shouted over the ruckus.  
  
Everyone froze save for the wolf still nuzzling Buffy affectionately – much to her amusement – to stare at the newcomer.  
  
“I know you,” Spike growled. “Bloody hell, Peaches. Let me _go_.”  
  
“Just making sure no one gets hurt here,” Angel released him with a laugh.  
  
“How was I supposed to know he wouldn’t hurt her? Were’s aren’t known for their control, now are they?”  
  
Angel looked over to see Buffy finally manage to extract herself from beneath her friend and stand. Her smile was a sight to behold at having been reunited with Xander. “True,” he agreed. “But then, I’ve never seen one shift at will, and without the benefit of a full moon either.”  
  
“I told Xander his way of spilling the beans wasn’t a good idea. But you know Xander…” Alaine shrugged.  
  
“Unfortunately, I do,” Angel grumbled. Boy had been a pain in his ass since day one, he thought, though not without some affection. “You guys planning on staying for a while?” he asked, ushering her down off the steps and further into the hotel. “Looks like you’ve got a story to share…”


End file.
